These Dark Paths
by SpookshowBabyx
Summary: Finally free from the prison of her lesser half, the Evil Queen lurks in the shadows of Storybrooke planning her next move to finally reap her revenge on Snow White. Encountering the Saviour, she realises Emma might hold the key to Snow's demise. Capturing the Saviour to begin her twisted games, her cruel intent stirs up the darkness the blonde has only recently put to rest.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _I've wanted to experiment with pitting the Evil Queen against Dark Swan for a while now, so finally came up with an idea stemming from the new season. I don't tend to like writing a storyline closely following the show while it is still airing/ changing, but this is more a starting point to then go off in it's own direction regardless of what happens in upcoming episodes. I hope you enjoy this new little journey, and enjoy the first chapter. Reviews would be awesome :)_

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Standing in the shadow of the trees, the Queen watches as her better half- her _lesser_ half- raises her palms and cloaks her vault with a protection spell. To her weaker self's side stands Snow White, and she grits her teeth as her long ago nemesis places a kind hand on the Mayor's forearm and murmurs to her amiably. Beside Snow stands her Prince, sporting an idiotic expression of concentration, as though merely keeping himself alive is pushing his mental capacity to the limit.

 _Well, that's always seemed highly likely._

Watching the three figures that crowd the mouth of the old crypt chatter to each other in the dying light of the fall sun, she seethes.

 _How could it have come to_ this _?_

She is unable to hear what they say from her cloak of darkness, but she recognises the universal gesture Snow makes with her hand, and the others follow her towards the road and eventually slip from sight. The fact that her lesser self walks alongside the others- companionably close- fills her with rage, but also instils a great relief to finally be _free_ of that wretched body. To be let loose from that hellish moral prison.

 _Not to mention, be rid of that terrible wardrobe._

Scarlet lips pull into a slow smirk; having grown so _tired_ of modest, heavy dress pants and fitted shirts. She supposes certain elements of this new world have rubbed off on her, as she has dressed herself not in the garish opulence favoured during her reign, but in a darker, sleeker version of her royal attire. Black leather clinging to her slim legs, to match a sinfully low-cut corset beneath her velvet cloak.

Stepping out from the shadows, she stalks towards her vault and extends a hand.

As she'd anticipated, she meets an invisible barrier that extends in a dome about two feet from the crypt's entrance. Curiously, while the breed of the magic used is strong in its heritage- blood magic one of the oldest and most revered types used back in her homeland- the potency of the spell here lacks the strength she'd been bracing herself for.

 _Well, it would appear love really_ is _weakness._

Readying herself to vanquish the feeble enchantment, she stills, catching the telling crunch of footsteps through fallen leaves. Slinking swiftly back behind the wall of the crypt, she waits to see who her unwanted visitor might be.

A part of her hopes for Snow.

Snow to have come back, having forgotten something perhaps.

Snow alone. Vulnerable.

She'd even settle for the Prince, she supposes.

 _Yes._

 _Even better, in fact._

Even better for it to be Charming walking alone in the sweet promise of nightfall now that she thinks of it. Better Snow's loved one than the bitch herself. Oh, it has been a long time since she was last in the position to cause the lying little wretch some pain, and preying on her heart rather than merely hurting Snow directly seems a perfect way to celebrate her new and intoxicating independence.

 _Call it a christening if you will. A baptism of blood._

A terrible smirk resurfaces on her lips as she waits for her trespasser to make themselves known.

 _Because really, that's what it is. Trespassing. No one should have any business here. No one should-_

"-Shit."

Comes a low growl, and a twig snaps beneath dark boots as her companion stalks into view.

Emma stands with one hand fisted against the peak of her hip and the other gripping her phone. She frowns down at the screen while the wind plays havoc with her curls, and she shakes her head irritably as she looks around before seeming to sigh in confirmation.

Behind her, unseen, dark eyes glitter.

 _... Even better..._

The Queen holds her breath, hardly believing her luck. Since being free and slipping through the shadows of this strange land her lesser self has called home, she's been so preoccupied with the idea of revenge looming so tantalisingly close, that she'd all but _forgotten_ one very important player in her better self's life.

 _How could I have forgotten the_ Saviour _?_

She muses in surprise, but then she supposes her brief lapse of thought makes sense. _Regina_ might have dealt with the impossibly vexing woman on many occasions, but the last time she- The _Queen_ \- encountered the prophetic blonde, she'd been an infant. Nothing but a worrying weed to be crushed. An omen.

 _My, how things change..._

Indeed. And she studies the younger woman intently as the latter scuffs at the leaves littering the ground while muttering grumpily

"You could have _waited_ for me at least..."

Raising a well-shaped brow as she contemplates the unthinkable possibility that it might be the _Mayor_ this irritable yet casually accepting grunt is aimed towards, the Queen bites her lip.

 _How_ unfortunate _that they've left you out here all alone..._

Her heart beats faster in her chest as her mind reels with the possibilities of her current situation. She needs to tread with caution, she knows this, as while held captive by her ever more sickening journey to virtue, she's witnessed enough of what the Saviour has to offer to recognise the potential danger Emma may pose.

The blonde is powerful.

 _Well, so am I..._

She smiles, and it is not only the wonderful freedom to see the Saviour for what she truly is once again- a problem, a thorn, a nuisance to be snuffed out- but, without the leash of her morals, she is able to allow herself to acknowledge _other_ things that come to mind when pondering the woman.

Things that she'd been vaguely aware of and yet vehemently denied herself when they had first met. Her better half- even _before_ being broken and weakened by the heroes- had been proper. Dignified. Cold. All facets of her true self, but held together under the tight binds of her position as Mayor and the strain of her knowledge. She'd lacked the wicked pursuit for fun that flickers dangerously in her heart now that she is no longer afflicted by such tiring restraints.

The Saviour is a curious entity now that she's all grown up.

A tempting little game to play before getting down to business.

And really, a wonderful prospect in the grand scheme of her primary goal.

To ruin Snow White.

 _All in good time._

After all, after thirty long years cooped up inside a shell of her former self, surely it's finally time for the Evil Queen to come out to play.

Smiling darkly, she steps out into the open; bright, scarlet leaves crunching beneath the heel of her boot.

The blonde turns around, eyes wide in surprise, before a frown creeps uncertainly across her face

"... Regina?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Enjoy! Review!_

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 _"... Regina?"_

Emma greets with a furrowing of her brow, looking the darker woman up and down curiously.

"What, uh... What are you wearing?"

She asks, green eyes falling to the exposed valley of the brunette's breasts and the tight fit of her pants. She raises a brow and waits for an answer.

"Do you like it?"

The darker woman asks coyly, grinning sinfully as she opens out her arms to allow the blonde a better study of her svelte form. The look of dubiety on the younger woman's face tickles her, before Emma simply shrugs and grins amiably.

"It's different."

She replies, and dark eyes flash with momentary irritation as this glib statement in no way matches the generous sight offered. Keeping her temper reigned in for the time being, she watches as Emma perches herself casually on one of the old gravestones that circle the vault, intrigued to be stood face to face with the product of her downfall with the young woman seemingly none the wiser.

She wonders if Emma simply believes she's injected a little more style into her usual appearance, and whether she imagines she might have done so on _her_ account.

Either way, she'd always known any spawn of the two idiots might be a little slow on the uptake.

Not that it matters.

It makes this all much more fun.

She-

"-Have you protected the vault already?"

The Sheriff interrupts her train of thought, and she smirks, wiggling her fingers coquettishly before touching the Mayor's enchantment; the air rippling curiously.

"All safe and secure, dear."

"Cool."

The blonde nods, drumming her fingers on pitted stone as she adjusts her rather inappropriate seat in an effort to get a little more comfortable.

The Queen takes a slow step closer to the younger woman with her fingers trembling as they course with her power, before halting in her tracks when Emma looks away and wrestles a packet of gum from the pocket of her jeans. The blonde holds it out expectantly and glances up when her offering goes ignored.

The look on the brunette's face is a strange one, and she opens her mouth to ask Regina what's wrong, before smacking her fist into her thigh and rolling her eyes when she remembers.

"Right, of course. Cinnamon. Sorry."

She smiles, and the darker woman purses her lips as she remains momentarily thrown. Narrowing her eyes as Emma helps herself to a piece of gum before blowing a childish bubble, she feels uncharacteristically unsure of the situation as the blonde confides lightly

"Oh yeah, you know what I was telling you about that girl that works at the Rabbit Hole the other day?"

"... Mhmm..."

The Queen replies noncommittally, racking her brains, but since being divided from her weaker half she is no longer plagued with the insipid musings of the others. She can't recall what Emma might have told her about some poor wretch from that dreadful establishment, but the younger woman's casual tone unbalances her a little now that she's left only with her true thoughts and desires. It is not the way one would ordinarily speak to a member of royalty.

It's trivial.

Friendly.

 _Oh... You're in for a surprise, my dear..._

"Well, I told her I'd have to arrest her if she did anything like _that_ again, and she tried bribing me back onto her good side with 'on the house' perks, given I'm the Sheriff and all. Totally illegal, I reckon... So anyway, I think I'm going to go down to the Rabbit later I guess is the punchline of all this. Crooked cops have more fun in any movie I've seen. Want to see if she'll extend her lawbreaking benefits to the Mayor?"

"...I..."

"I mean, I _know_ we're supposed to be figuring out what the hell's going on with that ship in the woods, but I think if I have to hear my mom tell us one more time that whoever was in there is more afraid of us than we are of them, I might give _her_ something to be afraid of! I _get_ it, we're here to help, but between navigating Hell and trying to figure out what colour to paint my bathroom, I'm kind of up to _here_ with dealing with everyone's shit."

The blonde stretches her hand up as far as she can reach, and dark eyes flicker as a narrow slice of pale flesh is exposed by the thick wool of the younger woman's hideous sweater.

Running sharp velvet thoughtfully between her teeth, the Queen smirks, wondering what Snow might have said- clad in her billowing white gown all those years ago- if she'd known what a common tongue her little girl would grow up to possess.

"So, are you in? Might as well do _something_ given how you're dressed."

The blonde laughs, but it is not an unkind laugh, rather one of amused camaraderie that the brunette understands, yet doesn't connect with.

"What _about_ how I'm dressed?"

She challenges, and Emma raises a brow and rises easily to the bait with a grin

"It's a bit _much_ , no? I mean, for sorting out Storybrooke's newest crisis, anyway."

"Ah. So if I were to wear this when out of an evening with yourself it would be considered more suitable?"

"Uh. Yeah, I guess?"

Emma frowns, privately wondering if this might perhaps be the first time where it has been _Regina_ secretly day drinking and not herself.

"So, are you coming?"

She continues, a little apprehensive as dark eyes bore into her intently.

"Well, dear... I'm afraid I must apologise. You see, while I'm sure it might be fascinating to accompany you down into the squalid depths of that foul tavern, such a place is no longer really my scene..."

"... huh?"

The blonde grunts, leaning back just a little- her hands gripping the gravestone clumsily when her position becomes precarious- as the darker woman stalks slowly closer; honing in on her.

"I _do_ , however, have an _alternative_ suggestion."

"...Okay?"

"And I do use the term 'suggestion' loosely, Miss Swan."

"Regina... What are you doing?"

"Plans have changed."

The brunette sighs, before cutting off the blonde's responding stammer with a swift veil of darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** : _Sorry! Uploaded the wrong chapter before! Enjoy!_

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Stumbling, Emma reaches out blindly and catches hold of something hard and solid before she can sprawl onto her knees. Gathering herself and blinking rapidly, she pushes away the obscuring veil of her hair and looks around with naked surprise.

"What the _hell_ , Regina!?"

She grumbles, but the frantic beating of her heart lessens promptly as she recognises her surroundings. Looking from the half empty coffee mug she'd left standing on her kitchen counter a couple of hours earlier, to the brunette perched casually on one of the bar stools she'd managed to beg off Granny, she frowns. She's planning to reupholster the worn red leather with a sleeker black version of much the same, but privately wonders if things will ever quieten down enough for good intentions to come to fruition.

"Why'd you do that?"

She asks with open confusion, but the Queen is curious to note that the blonde still seems more or less _comfortable_ with their current situation.

 _If a little wind-swept._

"Well, because I wanted a little privacy, and my current living situation is apt to become complicated."

Regina shrugs, while inwardly contemplating just how true that statement might be. She's not sure a scene in which she, Henry, and the pathetic waste bearing her likeness sharing the mansion will end all that pleasantly.

 _So, dear. It seems I might just stay with_ you _for a little while._

Baring her teeth in a devilish smirk, she takes a few steps towards the blonde while dipping her hand surreptitiously into her cloak.

 _Thank you, mother._

"Emma, who's that?"

She asks suddenly, pointing towards the kitchen window, where the Sheriff's non-existent attempts at gardening have left the generous lot outside overgrown and in disarray.

"Huh?"

The blonde reacts predictably, looking up to try and catch the imaginary intruder. Swift as a vixen, the Queen closes a small, iron circlet around the younger woman's wrist. It fits her perfectly, just as it does any who wear it.

Who have it forced upon them.

"What are you-!?"

But Emma's confusion trails off into something darker as she recognises the crude bracelet for what it is. After all, she's seen it worn by both the woman stood smirking opposite her, and the brunette's bothersome sister.

"Why would you...?"

Another broken sentence, not that the Queen is surprised. Emma never was one for eloquence. The look of utter surprise and- even more hilarious- hurt that finds sharp features intrigues the darker woman. It's as though Snow's whelp can't comprehend the idea that her mother's adversary might mean her ill-will.

 _Incidentally, dear, it's remarkably delightful that you seem_ still _to believe I'm your toxic Mayor._

Looking the blonde up and down and recalling a long list of peculiar outfits, she supposes she shouldn't be _too_ surprised that Emma's a little slow on the uptake. Evidently, the donning of leather and flair is an action the blonde associates with it being a Thursday rather than an expression of self-discovery.

"Because, I don't want you trying anything funny..."

Regina smiles, and the first flicker of temper alights the Sheriff's eyes as she looks down at the circlet dampening her magic and back up into dark coals.

"What are you doing?"

She demands, before finally showing a hint of the fire the brunette had anticipted she would need to approach with caution when she finally asks

"And.. What do you _mean_ you want privacy? Privacy for _what_?"

They are now standing almost nose to nose, and the Queen can't help herself from playing with the younger woman a little- for if she is the vixen, Emma is currently a nervous little rabbit- as she relishes the uncertainty clouding cool green eyes. Closing in, she challenges Emma as her more reserved counterpart has done countless times before; her breath tickling pale cheeks as she locks in on the blonde. Unlike before, she doesn't stop there, taking one more step so that her hips make contact with the Sheriff's own, and she laughs as the latter cringes back, but is unable to step away as her backside presses against the counter.

"Uh... Regina..."

Emma breathes, and the brunette laughs darkly as she appreciates the idiot's nervous attempt to sound completely in control. Raising her hand, she brushes a few strands of hair from the blonde's face, watching the delicate ripple of her throat as she swallows audibly.

"What, dear?"

She purrs, and she can't help swallowing herself as she's not felt this excited in a long time. The cuff had actually been stolen and meant for Rumplestiltskin in the event that the little imp might hinder her rather than deem it fit to help her. It had been a fall back. A safety net. A contingency plan. It is by pure chance that she has landed herself in this situation, but her mind is ticking fast with ways she might be able to make this work for her. She can think of few better ways to hurt Snow than to threaten the safety of her child. She supposes the winning hand would have been to take possession of the hateful woman's infant son, but Emma is a close second. She also presents a far more _appealing_ game to play in the meantime.

 _This is going to be fun..._

For almost two years now the Mayor has denied herself from truly acknowledging the strange tension between the blonde and herself as anything other than tactile rivalry, and it might once have been just that... But how do they then explain that same fire flickering between them since having become allies?

"You've grown up nicely, dear... But then again, you were never _supposed_ to grow up at all..."

"What?"

Emma frowns, before _finally_ , the reality of the situation dawns on her, and her lips part in numb shock.

"You..."

"Me, dear."

The Queen agrees happily, before frowning when the the look of fear she'd been waiting for doesn't come. Instead, Emma adopts a look of irritable apprehension, as though believing she has been lumbered with a mildly vexing character in some dusty book.

 _I killed your_ mother _in front of you. Or so you thought. Remember that? Remember you told me- the Mayor- what had happened. And that despicable version of myself_ apologised _to you! Sat with you in that hateful Diner sharing a coffee and_ apologised _to you for doing something so terrible, even though all was well in the end._

 _Well... Not this time. I am no mildly vexing character. And this is no_ book _any longer._

"So nice to finally meet you properly, Saviour."

She smirks, and it is a terrible smirk, and, when she leans in, finally a little fear flickers to light in the blonde's of eyes after all.

 _Oh, my dear, you have so much to learn._

Brushing her lips lightly against Emma's, the Queen tastes the lingering cinnamon of her gum.

"Regina!"

Emma accuses, her voice breaking as she studies the brunette with naked confusion.

"What are you _doing_?"

The younger woman asks, almost pleadingly. It occurs to her that she might need to call the woman grinning opposite her- _against_ her- something else, something _Royal_ , but she can't bring herself to do so. Instead, she narrows her eyes and waits for an answer, tasting apples.

"Well, dear. I need to think about that."

The Queen replies honestly, before taking a hold of the blonde's arm and leading her swiftly over to the door beneath the stairs. She's ready for a struggle- she knows the younger woman is strong and might easily shake her off even without her magic- but Emma seems momentarily too surprised to react, and she moves awkwardly but without any attempts of violence. It's only once the brunette pulls open the door that gapes wide like a dark mouth leading towards the house's curious basement, that Emma snaps from her stupor and tries to push Regina away.

Too little, too late, and the Queen shoves the blonde into the darkness and slams the door to her fate.

Angry fists beat on the wood as she locks it with a swift flick of her wrist.

"What the fuck are you _doing_?! Let me out! What the hell!?"

"Shush, dear."

The Queen replies amiably enough, before stalking back into the kitchen and looking around curiously with her hands on her hips.

 _What_ am _I doing?_

This is something she has yet to fully decide. As it is, for now, she walks over to the blonde's fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine. Helping herself to a glass, she sips contently while looking out of the kitchen window, where darkness has come to fall.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _Sorry for the confusion with the last post, I had accidentally posted a chapter of Poppies. Everything should be sorted now :) Enjoy this new one, and thanks for reading. Reviews would be awesome_!

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Completing her exploration of the blonde's home with a peek into her bedroom, the Queen stands at the threshold with her glass of wine held elegantly in her hand. The house is still fairly bare- the Sheriff owning little, especially in terms of decor- but disorganised clutter adorns the stark rooms in a trail that pretty much narrates Emma's last couple of days. A pair of jeans- blue, rather than the black the blonde currently wears- lie crumpled beside the nightstand, pooling in a messy figure of eight where she will have stepped out of them. Chunky black boots lie nearby, and a scant scarlet bra snags on the handle of a low dresser. Two glasses stand empty but for a honeyed glaze of rum painting the bottoms on the nightstand, and she guesses the blonde and the pirate must have shared whatever had been in the bottle that rests beside the bedside lamp. The bottle is empty, and the sticky residue of the labels that will have branded it form irregular, broken rectangles on the glass. Here and there a few scraps of the sticker remain visible, but for the most part it has been ripped off. A habitual act she has witnessed as the Mayor several times when the blonde has either been agitated or anxious; pealing absentmindedly at the water bottles on her desk.

 _What does that say about your state of mind when sharing your bed with the pirate?_

She smirks, but she supposes she hadn't needed a shredded bottle as evidence that Emma might yet have a few outstanding issues with intimacy. She's been stuck in a body where she's been forced to deal with such boring facts for _months_ now.

Taking a seat on the younger woman's bed, she sips at her wine thoughtfully, cocking her head as angry knocking resumes downstairs.

 _Futile_.

Emma seems to come to the same conclusion as the furious pounding of her fists only goes on for a couple of seconds, before once more falling silent.

 _What am I going to do with you?_

A fair question. The fact that she has the Saviour held captive is delicious, but she's not yet decided on a further course of action. Locking Emma away had been simple impulse, but it serves to please her that the younger woman suffers a taste of the fate Snow had once handed down to herself. Locking her up. Keeping her prisoner. And for that, she plans to make the bitch pay. Delivering Snow her darling daughter's _head_ seems like a wonderful place to start- a perfect way to celebrate her freedom- but the fact that nobody else knows of her whereabouts provides the luxury of time, and she's never been one to rush a good thing.

Licking her lips, she is certain she still tastes cinnamon.

She supposes it could simply be all in her head, but deems this to be an _excellent_ cause for another taste to make sure.

The ghosted memories of her time spent trapped inside her own skin bring her fractured images of the blonde's insolence and goading. Challenging that lesser, weaker version of herself again and again. Defying her. Taunting her.

Teasing her.

Glancing back down at scarlet lace, she allows a slow smile to find her lips, wondering just what that _other_ version of herself might say if she still shared the same twisted mind.

If she only _knew_ the thoughts that were beginning to form there...

Thoughts stemming from the residue of so many subdued fancies and forbidden buds of suggestion now finally allowed to bloom. More than once, the notion that their bickering might be swiftly and satisfyingly settled with a rough, wet interruption had crossed her mind back when she'd been the Mayor, but such ideas had always resulted in a blush and an irritable haste to push them aside. Now... She lets those fantasies blossom and progress, dark eyes trained on sinful scarlet while summarising that she believes she might just be able to make herself perfectly comfortable in the blonde's bed.

 _Who ever knew we would be_ roommates _, dear?_

She laughs lightly, before pushing herself up from the bed and making her way back downstairs.

With the curious thoughts playing out in her mind, she finds she's suddenly famished.

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Emma sits with her back against the wall, her pupils blown as she peers through the darkness. She sits at the top of the steep steps that lead down to the basement below, down where her fate had been decided in the depths of this strange house. She's not mentioned it to any of the others, but ever since relinquishing the dagger, she has kept away from the peculiar cave beneath the floors she now walks each day. She knows Hook has been down into the darkness once with a flashlight to store a couple of boxes from the trunk of her car filled with memories she doesn't necessarily cherish, but is also unable to part with. At one time, her baby blanket had been amongst these things, but ever since pulling it out to show Ava and Nicholas, she's kept it out of the trunk and in plain sight. It occurs to her suddenly that _Regina_ still has the blanket after using it to track her when she'd been consumed by the darkness. She'd been mildly surprised when the brunette had later explained that she'd thought to use it, and a little touched. Now, she is struggling to find _any_ good thoughts about Regina, as the cold stone of the floor bites into her ass, and the metal circlet around her wrist digs in as though mocking her.

 _That's not Regina... Not any version_ you _know, anyway._

She reminds herself, and she tugs at her hair nervously while trying to get her head around her current predicament.

She licks her lips, feeling the darker woman's kiss burning there.

 _What the fuck was that?_

She tries to comprehend what in the hell the brunette had been playing at but fails.

 _What the hell_ was _that?!_

But again, she lacks any answer. She has read Henry's book countless times, as well as sat in on further explanations of the past from her parents, friends and Regina herself. She knows that if the woman whose heels beat out a cruel rapport above her really _is_ the Evil Queen, she's in trouble. Sure, that version of Regina verges on ridiculous, and harbours an air so similar to several of the drag acts she'd watched when travelling across the west coast that it's hard to take her seriously.

 _That's a foolish way to look at this, Swan._

She reprimands herself, and she supposes that the way things have turned upside down in the last couple of hours proves her point. The brunette had been dressed oddly- provocatively- but not with the same eccentric flamboyance as she favours in the book and had showcased during the blonde's own curious slip back in time. In the graveyard she'd been poised. Predatory. And the fact that she's made it a first point of call to incapacitate her worries Emma a great deal. She scours the darkness for anything that she might be able to use as a weapon, but comes up empty. She is reluctant to go any deeper into the basement without a light source, remembering the cavernous void below well enough from when anger had consumed her.

It would be all too easy to get lost down there.

 _Would that be worse than dealing with Her Majesty?_

She pulls a face in the shadows, but knows deep down that she would do well not to make light of her situation. She's grown comfortable with the brunette over the last couple of years, and to think of her now as the terrible entity Henry had once warned her so vehemently about is a struggle.

 _Hell, we went halves on breakfast just yesterday!_

She-

-Footsteps. Descending. She blinks as small clouds of dust sprinkle down onto her curls as Regina- the Queen- makes her way down the stairs directly above where she sits.

She waits.

Her lips burn.

The thin crack of light beneath the door becomes broken by elegant heels.

She pushes herself up, holding her breath.

Bracing herself, she makes a swift decision, and watches as the door handle turns slowly to the right.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Enjoy :) Please, please, please review :)_

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Pulling open the basement door, the Queen is met with a flurry of gold as Emma runs at her. What it is the Saviour means to do, she has little clue. Whatever it had been, the blonde fails, as the darker woman takes a swift and graceful step back, sending the Sheriff spilling out into the hallway like some kind of feral animal. Regina's quick thinking catches Emma by surprise, and she staggers slightly as she struggles to find her footing; having expected to collide with the haughty bitch head on.

"Careful, dear."

The Queen warns lazily, smirking when the blonde whirls around to face her with an angry flash of her teeth.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?!"

Emma demands, and the brunette is intrigued to note that the younger woman's earlier aloofness has been replaced by a small shadow of fear.

"Forgive me, I needed to think, and your generally inane chatter makes that difficult.

"Think about _what_?"

Emma asks, brushing herself down and composing herself a little. She regards the Queen apprehensively, entirely thrown off to be stood face to face with someone she knows so well and yet now barely at all. Dark eyes that she has always thought of as very pretty- if occasionally a little cruel- bore into her intently, and the gentle cast to the Mayor's fine features that lend her the side that the blonde has always found pleasantly approachable _\- given the circumstances_!- is nowhere to be seen. She has grown accustomed to Regina looking at her with a subtle softness, and even before, back when the darker woman had professed to _hate_ her, there had still been a hint of humanity beneath the tactile distaste.

Now, there is _no_ humanity. No softness. The Queen looks at her with a kind of terrible hunger, and she finally understands everything she's read written on the pages of Henry's book. She'd _believed_ them before, once finally accepting the reality of her position and the queer fate of the town, but to _understand_ is something else entirely. What she has seen drawn, written and played out by the Evil Queen has been almost laughable. A grand display of airs and graces fit for a pantomime. She'd _believed_ the others that Regina had been feared, but perhaps not entirely been able to see it for herself, despite having read a seemingly endless list of despicable acts brought on by the woman she has come to- privately- think of as her closest friend. Back when the curse was still in place, she'd found it hard to believe Henry's tales, even with the brunette snapping at her heels and doing anything in her power to hurt her. Yes, Regina had been a bitch, but she'd been no worse _really_ than many of the women she'd shared her time in prison with; dominant women with a need to crush any they might dislike under their heel and _twist_.

 _And that had been back then!_

Now, the woman that had so recently inhabited the shell stood smirking before her stops by to chat amiably over wine or coffee so frequently she occasionally forgets to knock. Especially since Robin passed away.

She wonders if this new, vile version of Regina feels anything about the archer or the people she has come to befriend- hell, _rely_ on!- or if she is truly as cold as her eyes suggest.

They're still pretty, those eyes. Still seemingly bottomless and shrouded with enviably thick lashes that sweep outwards perfectly as if drawn. But there's nothing behind them, nothing good.

"What are you doing here, Regina?"

She asks in as calm a tone as she can manage, and she strives hard to keep from fidgeting with the cuff that cuts in uncomfortably tight around her wrist. If she does that, she imagines the darker woman will find pleasure in the fact, and right now, she has no intention of pleasuring Regina.

 _Odd choice of wording, Swan..._

"You kissed me."

She states quietly, and she inflects the last word almost as though asking a question. As though she doesn't quite believe it.

"Yes."

The Queen agrees, offering nothing further on the matter, and she watches as the blonde swallows and averts her eyes.

"Regina, what do you want?"

Emma tries again, and the brunette runs her tongue over her bottom lip thoughtfully as she notes with great amusement that the fabled and all-powerful Saviour struggles to keep her voice from cracking.

"I want what I've been denied all these years. I want revenge."

"But _why_? After _everything_... I thought... I mean, you were doing so _well_! Why would you go and _ruin_ all of that now? What about everything that's happened between my mom and yourself? Between you and _I_?!"

"What _happened_ was you poisoned me! All of you! You made me _weak_. You made me a pathetic shadow of what I truly am. And for that, there must _also_ be retribution."

"No. We _helped_ you. And you helped us! There's nothing _weak_ about the way you've changed."

"...This may surprise you, Miss Swan, but I don't have much time for a psych session from yourself. Not my style... You can keep your hero speech to yourself. I'm _done_ listening to you."

"Then why seek me out?"

Emma replies boldly, before taking a step back- eyes wide and mouth open in shock- when the brunette smacks her smartly across the face.

"You hit me..."

She breathes, stating the obvious, and but there is no pain in her voice, only complete and utter surprise.

"I didn't seek you out-"

The Queen seethes.

"-You came wandering into graveyard and stumbled upon me. I was thinking you might be your mother and that I'd have a chance to choke the weed once and for all. As it was, I saw you as what you _truly_ are, dear; an opportunity."

"An opportunity?"

"Must I _really_ spell it out for you? Are you _honestly_ as _idiotic_ as I always feared?... I suppose I shouldn't find myself so surprised. Well, Miss Swan, to hurt your mother is a sweet and pleasurable dream that I entertain with pure bliss, but it also threatens to be over too soon. To hurt _you_ , though... Well. That promises to be an endeavour I will enjoy immensely, and while taking my _time_."

"But, _why_ do you want to hurt me? I thought we were okay, now?... I mean, even as the Queen, there's no real beef between the two of us. I was a _baby_ when you last saw me."

Emma frowns, still touching her fingers to her cheek where the Queen's cruel slap burns bright red.

"True, and I suppose you're right in a way. I have no issue with you, other than that you exist, dear. In doing so, you make Snow White happy, and that is something I just can't abide. I suppose if you add to this the fact that I find you insufferably self-righteous and a continual thorn in my side, using you to hurt your mother more deeply than I could manage facing her one on one will be a practice of great joy for me. You mean too little to me to warrant revenge, Emma, but for all of the times you've irritated me and sought to best me, I will relish your undoing nicely."

A faint and swiftly hidden look of hurt finds the blonde's eyes in the face of being told she means nothing to the darker woman, but Regina catches it before it can be shielded and smiles.

"It is _odd_ , don't you think, Saviour? The bond you've forced between us. Me being the woman who wanted your parents dead, and you being as prickly as you are."

Green eyes narrow, and while Emma finds herself stung by the words Regina intentionally chooses to stab at her, she replies confidently; knowing she speaks the truth.

"I didn't _force_ anything. It was just something that happened."

"Hmm... You _like_ me, don't you, Miss Swan?"

The Queen goads, and the blonde shows her teeth as the brunette's enquiry drips with disdain as though she's speaking to a fool of something detestable and full of shame. Lowering her hand from her smarting cheek and squaring her shoulders, Emma answers back cooly

"Until about an hour ago, I did, yes. You like me, too."

She speaks in the low, dangerously assertive tone that Regina remembers from the days before the little idiot broke the curse, and her full lips curl into a smile as she agrees silkily.

"My lesser half seems to have liked you, this is true. Me- my _true_ self- I am undecided."

"Hmm."

Emma replies, foolishly adopting an expression of mild bemusement that is a great step away from the fear that had recently escaped and allowed itself to be enjoyed. The Queen snaps at her angrily

"What? What 'hmmm'?"

She demands, and the blonde shrugs; a lazy, boyish gesture when she does it and one the brunette despises.

"It's just, if you're truly the Evil Queen and stuff, I was kind of expecting deep experessions of hate and, well, _evil_. There's not much to have me quaking in my boots when you can't even decide if you might like me fine after all."

"Oh, Miss Swan, I will _give_ you a reason..."

The brunette warns softly, and the blonde's eyes flicker to soft lips and she bites her tongue.

"And I am undecided as to how I feel about you because I find you, in some ways, rather amusing. It is nothing born of friendship or care like you seem to have fooled my weaker self into feeling for you. _Nothing_ like that. But you're gutsy and feisty and I like that. I believe toying with you- destroying you- will be fun. That excites me."

"It does?"

Emma asks uncertainly, all of her previous bravado seeming to run out of her as she regards the brunette nervously.

"Oh yes."

Regina agrees pleasantly.

"I believe you're going to prove _quite_ entertaining."

"What are you going to do?"

The blonde whispers, remembering how Regina- _her_ Regina- had laughed warmly when they'd made their way to New York in her bug so recently; the situation tense, but their camaraderie strong, genuine and comforting.

"Whatever I _want_ , dear. I'm going to do whatever I want."

The Queen promises, her smirk dripping with sin.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _Trying to bring this to where I want it to go. I'm aware that I write Emma in a bind more often, and I want to take this to an eventual rebellion, but she needs to get pushed hard enough first. I think this will eventually be quite a dark/ more sex and dominance based fic as I've not done a longer one in this style. Any feedback on this as an idea would be great. I'm fairly certain that's where I want to go with it, but I'm also aware that's quite different to my other work (besides 'Blood'). Just curious to know what you think before I unleash the darkness! :) That said, I need to_ get _there first, and hope these interim chapters work :) Reviews would be lovely!_

* * *

 _"I'm going to do whatever I want..."_

The Queen's words linger between them like an omen, and Emma frowns but refuses to lower her eyes as the darker woman seems to expect of her.

"Regina. Don't do this."

The blonde tries one final time, dismayed just as much at the threat of losing a friendship that has taken blood, sweat and tears to build as she is by her current fate. Standing face to face- nose to nose- with the brunette now, her mind reels with a thousand things she has never discussed with the Mayor. She wonders if this would be happening if she'd only opened up a little and _talked_ to the woman, rather than shoving everything beneath the surface. They haven't discussed Robin in any great detail since his death for fear that doing so might be too painful for Regina. They've not discussed Hook for similar reasons. They've not discussed many of the strange situations faced together- as enemies _or_ as friends- and they _certainly_ haven't discussed the strange tension that has never quite died between them.

 _If we had, would this be different? If we had, would we-_

"-What I want right _now_ , is to be sated."

The Queen grins; scarlet and terrible.

"Sated?"

Emma asks, not sure she really wants to take a stab at what her long ago nemesis might mean.

"Fed, Miss Swan."

Regina elaborates with a cruel flicker of her tongue, and she looks the younger woman up and down- the Saviour clad in denim and leather; so gutsy and self-righteous- and smiles. It's about time the girl was put in her place.

"Come on."

She orders, taking hold of Emma's arm and pushing her towards the kitchen. Unlike when she'd forced her into the basement, this time the blonde fights back, and her tangible fury only adds to the Queen's enjoyment of their situation. Emitting just a touch of her power, she renders the Sheriff's rebellious attempts futile, and offers a wide smirk when green eyes flash at her with accusing fire.

 _My, my..._

Letting go of the younger woman and helping herself to a seat at the latter's kitchen table, she regards her ward expectantly.

"I'm hungry."

She informs again, and Emma swallows down a cacophony of sarcastic barbs in favour of standing with her arms moodily crossed and her expression Arctic.

"And?"

She goads eventually; ignoring the fact that she's pretty hungry herself.

"Do something about it."

Regina sighs, and the blonde considers her options for a moment longer before adopting a small grin of her own.

"I can offer you either instant noodles or bread. If you're _really_ nice, I might even toast it for you."

"Ugh, no thank you."

The Queen wrinkles her nose, before giving a small flick of her wrist which sends the blonde's fridge opening up to display its contents.

"You have shallots, vegetables, fish..."

"I do."

Emma agrees.

"Then you will prepare me something _proper._ _Edible_."

The Queen replies simply, and the younger woman opens her mouth to argue, when the brunette leans across the table and addresses her silkily.

"You best get your head around our little situation, Miss Swan. You have no magic here. No say. No importance. Nothing. You are here because I find your fury at the fact amusing. I'd say that works in your favour, as once that amusement falters... My qualms become once more with your mother, and I don't need a fancy little bracelet to toy with _her_... So I suggest _you_ strive to keep my attention..."

"... Hook cooks when he's here."

Emma replies eventually, losing a little of the defiance to her stance but none of the grit to her tone.

"Sweet."

"If you say so. You haven't tasted my cooking."

The younger woman points out, and Regina smirks, before confiding softly

"My dear... This has very _little_ to do with cooking. This has to do with me telling you what to do... And you doing it. So nicely. So sweetly. So-"

"-Get fucked."

Emma snaps, before her eyes widen much as the Mayor's do in surprise at her foolish insubordination. Squaring her shoulders and trying to appear aloof, she dares the darker woman to do something about it, although the Queen notes a tick in the blonde's jaw that speaks of nervousness.

"... Perhaps later."

She breathes, and any hardness in the Sheriff crumbles as the latter takes a physical step back and licks her lips.

"Regina..."

 _She's messing with you. Toying with you, of course she is._

Emma tells herself, but she can't help glance at full, dangerous lips, nor remember several moments shared between them that had spoken of something, well, _suggestive._ Most recent had been on the way back from New York. Their fear had been verbalised and real while on their way to find Henry, but on their way home, things had been a little different. Still tainted with the knowledge that everything remained uncertain in their little town, but the boy had been safe, and he and Violet had been sat inside a diner on their way back to Storybrooke sharing an ice cream while his mothers had shared some fresh air outside. There'd been quiet discussion over the way things had gone down, impossibly even broken up with a small chuckle here and there. They'd been stood against iron railings, looking out onto the road, and slowly- helplessly- they'd somehow ended up hip to hip. Nose to nose. There'd been a moment- a silent, heavy moment- where one had studied the other; glittering eyes drinking in everything on offer. When Henry had come out yelling at them that they should be getting on, that moment had snapped, and the blonde remembers how both she and Regina had blinked as though slapped and moved hastily away from each other; her throat rippling as she'd swallowed, just as she'd seen the Mayor's do.

"Do as you're told."

The Queen hisses, and she smiles as Emma grits her teeth and turns to the fridge.

"Ah! Aren't you _forgetting_ something?"

She asks sweetly, and the blonde turns back to her with a frown, before flashing her teeth when the brunette points to something hideous and heavy hanging from the back of the door.

Of course, there is no plausible way that one of the aprons worn by the servants in her palace should be here, but then, _none_ of this is plausible. It's just what she wants; what she can conjure. And there is nothing she wants more right now than to see Snow's little princess act as her maid- her subordinate- dressing the part.

"Well, go on."

She prompts.

"Go to hell."

Emma snarls back, and scarlet lips stretch into a terrible smile as the Queen steeples her fingers and muses thoughtfully;

"My, how _lovely_..."

"Huh?"

"How lovely. That picture of you and your mother over there. Of darling Snow."

She points to a small frame on a shelf beside the cooker of the blonde and Mary Margaret, and as she does so, the picture behind the glass blackens and burns; Snow's face becoming a hollow, black void.

"Oops."

Sickly. Sweet. And the darker woman smiles as Emma throws her a hateful look before stalking over to the apron hung at the back of the door.

"Good girl."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _Yes! Quiet period at work has officially begun! I should actually have some spare time now! :) Sorry this one is a little short, I started a bit later than I'd planned. Hope you enjoy though, and please review to let me know what you think!_

* * *

As she stands with her back to the Queen, Emma seethes. To her right, her own glass of wine remains so far untouched, having appeared as if out of nowhere much like the apron now tied around her waist. At first, she had just slung the hateful garment over her head and let the yellowing ribbons hang down by her sides, but the brunette had swiftly come and rectified her mistake; standing behind her- much too close, much too intimate- and tying up the loose ends with a purposeful roughness, finishing off her torment with a bow. The knot beneath is tight, almost uncomfortably so, but the blonde refuses to let this show.

"Come on, you can work faster than that."

The hateful being wearing her friend's face goads silkily, and she clenches her jaw to keep from offering the brunette just a small _portion_ of her opinion, and grips the knife in her hand so tightly the little ridge where the plastic has been melded bites into her palm.

 _Not if you don't want some of my blood for seasoning, I can't..._

She almost says as much to the Queen, but she's not sure she'd appreciate the response.

Looking back down at the shallots unevenly diced on the chopping board, she supposes she's all but decimated the last of the bunch with angry, short stabs of her knife. It's a large one; really too big for cutting up vegetables, but she'd only come to realise this after selecting it and has refused to give away any hint of regret or foolishness. She watches the blade as it turns small chunks to slivers, catching the glare of the kitchen overheads when she turns her wrist. Two thoughts go through her mind at the same time, and she discounts both of them with an infuriated roll of her eyes.

The first is more of a memory than it is a thought. The memory of what Zelena had done when bound to the cuff she now wears. The witch had cut her own _hand_ off to be rid of the wretched thing, before swiftly healing herself when once more in command of her magic.

 _You've got more guts than_ that _green nightmare..._

Possibly, but she knows she has a tendency to act rashly and refuse the very _idea_ that she's not got the courage to do what another has before her, sometimes to her detriment. Looking from the blade to the pale expanse of her wrist, she nibbles her lip thoughtfully, but rejects what might well prove to be a fatal plan. She is still learning when it comes to magic, and healing- thankfully- is something she has little practice in. The last thing she needs right now is to wind up bleeding profusely and vulnerably in front of the Evil Fucking Queen.

 _Yeah, and that's if you even manage to properly lop it off. Knowing your luck, you'd just wind up with a knife stuck halfway through your wrist._

The second thought also derives from memory; both a memory of Regina accusing her of a great number of things while she'd been in jail, and her actual time spent there itself. It had hurt her- which she supposes had been the point!- when the Mayor had implied she'd cut Henry's cord with a shiv, but they'd never gotten much further in that line of conversation before it had rerouted onto another point of contention. In reality, she'd never fashioned herself anything even _close_ to a shiv until a couple of months after getting out, and the deadly point at the end of her candy cane hadn't been good for much more than a couple of jabs. She's _seen_ them made, though. Seen them made and seen them used. Seen the effect of even a _little_ blade crudely fashioned after dark. The knife in her hand is big and sturdy, and she wonders if she'd be able to hurt the brunette badly enough to keep her from using her magic, if only for so long as it might take her to escape.

 _You can't_ seriously _be thinking about stabbing Regina, Swan!_

 _It's not_ Regina _! That is_ not _Regina!_

Her will battles with her sense, but she knows it doesn't really matter _who_ it is sat behind her smirking; she's not stabbing anyone.

"Honestly, what are you actually _doing_ over there?"

The Queen hisses, but there is no hint of any suspicion in her tone that would suggest she's concerned that her unwilling captive stands debating her demise.

"Almost done."

Emma mutters back, looking at the slivers littering the chopping board that are really just goop now. She swallows, the sharp burn of the shallot irritating her throat, but thankfully not causing her eyes to water as she's wearing her contacts.

Igniting the heat and selecting one of the ornate bottles of oil on the counter at random, she adds the chopped mush to a pan along with some spring greens and one of the fish fillets. She's not sure if she's doing any of this in the right order, but she's also not too bothered about it. She's hungry, but she doubts she could eat with the adrenalin currently coursing through her, and the tight bind of the apron has given her a stomach ache. She'll feed the damned Queen as she has no other option so far as she can see it, but she doesn't give a fuck- flying or otherwise- whether the brunette _enjoys_ what she serves her or not.

 _I think she's enjoying it_ plenty _as it is..._

Yes, and when she looks around, the smug smirk painted on scarlet lips affirms this thought. The Queen shows just a few more teeth- sharp, white and cruel- as she widens her smile, before flashing the velvet tip of her tongue. It's a coy act- uncomfortably flirtatious- and the blonde turns back to the stove and reaches for her wine after all. She takes several big gulps before spluttering as she chokes on the heady claret.

"Oh my. That wasn't even _my_ doing."

The Queen laughs in amusement, watching keenly as the younger woman stands bent over at the waist with her hands on her hips trying to catch her breath. Finally, the blonde flashes her a look of pure murder, and she titters as a warm finger of lust shoots pleasantly through her abdomen.

"Are you alright?"

She simpers with false concern, and the Sheriff offers her a gesture well known in this land, and not one her mother would approve of.

"Hmm... It would appear you'll live, at least for now... So why the delay?"

"You _want_ me to serve you raw fish? I'll _serve_ you raw fish."

"Is that so?"

"Hey, I mean, if it's what you _want_ , Your Majesty..."

Emma snaps, and the brunette smirks before giving a flick of her wrist and transforming the younger woman's mediocre cooking attempt into something more palatable.

"I think not."

She sighs, amused by the small gasp of surprise that escapes the Sheriff's lips even after all this time.

"So, come on then, Saviour."

"Huh?"

Emma grunts, eyeing up the brazed sea bass now beautifully presented in the pan with a hint of jealousy.

"Serve me..."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _This version of Regina is a lot of fun to write :D Review would be lovely!_

* * *

 _"Serve me..."_

Looking from the fish on the stove to the Queen, Emma sighs. She pulls a plate down from one of the cupboards and carefully dishes up the sea bass, complete with a tasteful medley of vegetables and some crisped slices of potato. Taking it over to the table, she hesitates as she studies the brunette sat waiting expectantly with a cheshire grin of malice, before sliding the plate over with a gruff snarl of

"Here."

"Thank you, dear."

The Queen smirks, once more flicking her wrist to bring Emma's wine from the counter to the table; full to the brim with merlot.

"Sit."

She orders, and the blonde does as she's told with an expression that warns that the darker woman shouldn't get too comfortable expecting this from her.

"This is your plan? _Really_? To _bother_ me for a while until you get a shot at my mom?"

Emma asks, watching as the Queen makes elegant work of her food while looking around curiously.

"It's working."

The brunette muses lightly, and the blonde narrows her eyes and shrugs.

"It is, but it seems a little _lame_. At least for the Evil Queen..."

She baits, and internally she asks herself what in the hell she's doing, but she's pissed and hungry and she's had just about enough of the brunette speaking to her the way she seems to delight in doing.

"Do you really think such questions are _wise_?"

The Queen asks, before returning once more to cataloging the younger woman's kitchen.

"Hmm. This is all _your_ stuff."

"Observant. I _live_ here."

"Nothing belonging to the Pirate, I see..."

"Hook has his ship."

"I know... Not keen on taking the next step, then?"

The Queen asks, pushing away her finished plate and leaning over the table with her hands laced under her jaw; a pantomime of girlish interest. Emma regards her stoically, taking a sip of her wine as she lets silence fall between them.

"Oh come now, don't be coy. I thought we were _friends_? Why the sudden cold shoulder, Swan?"

No response other than the slight raising of a brow, but the brunette is undettered, sipping from her own wine as she primps at her hair coquettishly. With the way she leans forwards, she offers the blonde a cadid view of her cleavage, and she runs a finger over her bottom lip as she studies Emma intently.

"You know he'll get bored of this stony act, don't you? I mean, no offence, dear, but _I've_ only been sat here with you for ten _minutes_ and I'm bored out of my skull... But perhaps you two do little talking? Hmm? I must say, the one-handed thing and the blade; now that _does_ offer some food for thought... Is that the catch for you? Is that why you put up with him?... Nothing?... Oh, come, Emma, at least indulge me a _little_! You are playing _host_ after all!... No?... Well, suit yourself. I suppose if he _does_ bore of you and your refusal to let anyone in, _I_ could always see just what all the-"

"-Save it. You know this isn't going to _work_ , right?"

"What isn't?"

The Queen asks with a mock expression of confusion, and Emma rolls her eyes as she meets her dark stare easily; forbidding herself to look down to where the brunette seems to be trying to direct her attention.

"This. You trying to get under my skin."

"Oh, I'm already there. We might as well have some _fun_ with it."

The brunette smirks, watching as the blonde sips from her wine with little change to her demeanour; the younger woman emitting nothing but pure ice.

"Why so touchy? I'm simply making conversation... Most people _enjoy_ gushing about their significant others."

"Have you _ever_ known me to gush?"

Emma counters, and the Queen sighs as she adopts a defeated pose and laments huskily

"No, sadly not."

"Well, then-"

"-But we could change that, I'm sure, with a little persuasion."

"... Why do you even _want_ to know? Since when do you have _any_ interest in me and Hook?"

"That's rather rich, given what I've done for the two of you."

" _Regina_ did that. The good parts of her did that."

"Oh, Emma, I assure you all the best parts are right _here_."

The Queen purrs, and she smirks as she catches the blonde's eyes flicker down for just a second before cool green once more bores into her angrily. She considers telling the younger woman that this cold defiance is a delectable look on her, but instead she simply savours it and sighs dramatically

"Fine, if you _must_ know, I suppose I have no interest. I just don't understand what you _see_ in him is all...?"

She shrugs, sipping from her wine as her dark eyes roam tight leather and the amusing sweetness lent to the blonde by her apron. Emma studies the deep scarlet in her own glass, before asking boldly

"Are you asking in an attempt to gossip, or because you're jealous?"

"Oh, my dear, you're _welcome_ to him, _believe_ me."

"Not of me. Of Hook."

"... Why might I be _jealous_?"

The Queen asks with a slow smile, and the younger woman looks up at her suspiciously, before simply laying her cards out on the table.

"Do you like me?"

"We've discussed this-"

"-Not as a person. You know what I mean. You kissed me. Do you- Does Regina-"

"Regina- _that_ Regina- never made up her mind about _anything_. All those times she could have acted, and yet she never even dared to fully form the thought."

"... But she... I mean she-"

"- _I._ Stop being so dismissive. It's rude. She and I are one of the same, I've just cut ties with the elements that made me weak."

"...You're _not_ the same. My Regina was stronger than you. Better than you."

" _Your_ Regina?"

" _Our_ Regina, whatever!"

"Oh my."

The brunette grins, and Emma glares at her haughtily.

"You're the _worst_ part of her, and for all I know, you're simply bored and fucking around."

"Would it matter?"

The Queen teases, leaning across the table with her lips parted into a sinful smirk.

"You're just darkness."

The blonde hisses, and the brunette laughs lightly and shakes her head.

"Darkness? Not so much. Evil? Well, yes, I suppose there are those who like to use that word. Myself? I would prefer something a little prettier, a little more sultry, but I suppose I can see where they're coming from. Darkness, though... That's in _you_ , dear. That's hiding away in _you_ underneath your well-honed hero facade. Me, I am a pure form of everything I have ever wanted to be... _You_... Well, Miss Swan, you're not so innocent if we really get down to it, are you? A good thing, too... Else I'd tire of you _far_ too quickly."

Her eyes glitter as this last part drips with suggestion, and the younger woman studies her uneasily but takes care not to let any cracks begin to show.

" _Everyone_ has two sides to them. Every _normal_ person."

"Well, I've never wanted to _be_ like everyone _else_ , dear. I've always wanted to be _more_ than that."

The Queen muses, before leaning once more across the modestly sized table, offering the blonde dark eyes and perfectly globed flesh as she addresses her captive host softly; her lips a mere inch from Emma's cheek as though telling her a secret.

"Apart from revenge, which will soon be mine, I have everything I _want_. I can _take_ anything I want. I can _have_ anything I want now."

"... And yet you're sat here annoying me while basically in _hiding_."

The younger woman points out, before yelping in surprise when cruel nails scratch at her jaw as the Queen's hand finds her throat. Most of her surprise comes from the fact that in doing so the brunette has knocked over her wine; sending it spilling out over the table to drench her apron, jeans and floor.

" _Look_ what you made me do..."

The Queen snarls accusingly, tightening her grip until she can feel the steady thrum of the younger woman's blood pulsing beneath her fingers.

" _You_ did that."

Emma argues, rather unwisely, and sharp teeth show in a flash of fury, before full lips break into a terrible smile.

"Oh, you have a lot to learn about how to address royalty..."

"So do you."

"Ah!"

The brunette warns, her grip tightening a little, and she watches as Emma's lashes flicker involuntarily to hint at the fear she refuses to allow her otherwise. Wetting her lips as she attempts to stare the younger woman down, she eventually lets go and lowers herself back into her seat, crossing her legs primly.

"Go on. Go clean yourself up. As much as I _relish_ the thought of having you sat wet before me, you currently smell like an alcoholic."

Touching the red marks left at her throat, Emma narrows her eyes as she considers this request. She doesn't trust this hateful version of Regina in the slightest, but an opportunity to get away from her- even if only for a few minutes- is currently highly appealing. Pushing herself silently from the table, she stalks uncertainly for the door, before taking a quick step back when the wood slams closed in her face.

"Ah. Miss Swan. Not so fast."

"What do you want?"

The blonde asks quietly; her tone tense and dubious.

"Oh, nothing to fret over, dear, show a little faith!"

The Queen laughs silkily, dark eyes boring into the younger woman as she stands with her back to her with her hands balled into tight fists.

"To _you_?"

Emma growls, and the brunette smirks as she muses

"Well, I suppose the request is rather hypocritical in this instance. Your pockets- empty them... And before you go getting any ideas, I know that you carry both a phone _and_ a pager. I want them both before you disappear upstairs."

Sighing defeatedly, the blonde turns around and hands over both devices; placing them on the table before asking coldly

"Can I go now? Only this isn't exactly comfortable."

"I don't know. Is that everything?"

"Yes."

"Or should I check for myself?"

"... It's everything. The landline's hooked up for the net, but I don't have a home phone. You- or _Regina_ \- knows that. My gun is in the hall. It takes about ten steps to get to the stairs, which creak. It's twenty to the door where the table is. Count if you want."

"I will."

The brunette grins with her fingers steeped in front of her mouth and her eyes glittering. She recognises the challenge in the younger woman's voice, and while she isn't remotely threatened by it, it _is_ having some more positive effects further south.

"Be a good girl now, Emma."

She orders, and the blonde offers her an icy look before turning around with the warning

"You too."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** _I'd planned on doing a fair rotation of writing/ uploading my three working fics, but I have always been terrible at planning, so it stands to reason I'd never stick to it! I'd had this scene in my head when finishing off the last chapter, so wanted to get it written down :) Hope you enjoy, please review._

* * *

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Emma lets out a heavy sigh of relief. She has always been fairly good at keeping her cool- opting for ice over fire unless pushed- and she'd say she's been doing a pretty admirable job of handling her current situation.

 _Well, I haven't attempted amputation or murder, anyway..._

Still, what had started as a naive blend of irritation and amusement has now become a very real sense of disquiet, and she swallows nervously as she turns to assess herself in the mirror over the sink. It's a grand slab of glass, elegantly detailed and framed, and it had been here when she'd moved in. She'd prefer a cabinet so as to hide the paraphernalia currently stashed in a shoebox on the windowsill, but as with so many things in the house, she hasn't had a spare moment in which to start redecorating just yet. The glass is slightly misted with age, but not so much so that she can't make out a series of red marks colouring her throat.

"You've got to get out of here..."

She tells her reflection, but she wills herself not to resort to panic. This is actually fairly easy despite the circumstances. She's well aware after her unpleasant encounter with the Queen that she has more to fear than an overture of caustic sass and dramatic outfits, but there is still a part of her- perhaps foolish, but also comforting- that is unable to meet her unfortunate circumstance with pure angst or terror. It's still Regina down there, the _worst_ parts of the brunette, but still Regina. The situation reminds her of when she'd first noticed something was amiss with David before realising that she was faced with his brother James; she'd been wary and cautious- not to mention grossed out!- but it had been hard to hate the masquerading idiot entirely, because of her love for her father. The woman downstairs is despicable and renowned for her cruelty, but the strength of the camraderie built up between Regina and herself over the last couple of years offers some sense of relief.

 _Don't let her fool you..._

No. She won't. She's not going to let familiar features and pretty eyes lull her into any false sense of security, but it _does_ make this whole situation complicated rather than just a complete nightmare.

"Madame Mayor best believe I'm going to make her suffer for this once I get out, though..."

She murmurs as she wrestles with the tight knot of the apron, and her resultant grin soon fades as she recalls her confusion downstairs at the table. She wants to tell herself that any hints and tricks played by the Queen are just _that_ , but she's not entirely convinced. Studying her reflection pensively, she runs through several recent scenarios in her head when some of the Queen's insinuations might carry just a touch of evidence, before turning away swiftly.

 _She's messing with you, Swan._

Maybe.

Maybe not.

"It doesn't _matter_ right now. That's something you can talk to Regina about- _your_ Regina- when not faced with her malicious alter ego."

True. _Sensible_ , even! But of course she knows she won't.

Finally succeeding in ridding herself of the apron, she throws the stained fabric into the corner, before working her way out of sodden jeans. As she does so, her eyes flicker over to the window above the cistern and she pads over after kicking herself free of ruined denim. The bathroom window is high and narrow, but she's fairly certain that she might be able to fit through if she gets inventive.

 _Yeah? Then what?_

A good question. _If_ she were able to clamber through, she'd end up on the roof covering the kitchen and part of the living room, and that would be _after_ a considerable leap. She doesn't imagine that right _now_ is a good time to find out if the tiles would take her weight, and even if they _were_ to do so- which she thinks they probably would- what _good_ might that do? The ceilings of the house are high; attractive and a good selling point from the inside, but a far less appealing feature from the roof! She'd guess that from the gutter to the ground might be a good nine or ten feet, and it would land her right in view of where her captor currently sits, so whether she were to break a leg or not would hardly matter.

"Fuck."

She mutters irritably, unzipping her jacket before pulling her sweater and shirt over her head. The sudden hopeful thought flashes through her mind that it would be quite unlike Henry not to come by in the hopes of scoring dessert- her freezer not exactly _better_ stocked then the Mayor's, but definitely less healthily- before she remembers that it's a Saturday and that he and Violet will most likely be helping Hook out by the docks as they have made a habit of doing as it provides them plenty of nooks and crannies to steal some privacy in.

 _Like I don't know..._

The pirate himself is unlikely to come by tonight until much later, if at all, and she supposes she has herself and her temper to thank for that. A conversation between them this morning fairly similar to the one the Queen had attempted to instigate had ended up in her snapping at him irritably, and she knows that he's probably thinking he's being the good guy now giving her some space, but dammit, right now really isn't the time!

"Me and my big mouth."

She huffs, but she knows that the next time the conversation gets broached- provided she hasn't been picked off by a long ago ruler clad in leather and lace- she'll react in just the same way. Because she doesn't _want_ to talk about him moving in with her. She doesn't want to talk about _any_ of it.

"Ugh."

Grumbling as she massages her temples, she pulls herself together and shakes out her hair, before stripping herself of her underwear and stepping into the shower.

* * *

Sipping at her wine, the Queen glances up at the light fixture as she catches the low drone of the pipes humming to life. She'd been curious- not quite concerned- about what the blonde might be up to upstairs left unsupervised, but she doesn't imagine it will have been anything of much interest. She'd placed a protection spell over the Saviour's house upon their arrival; keeping both unwanted intruders out unless permitted of her own volition, and keeping the younger woman _in_. She is fairly certain that Emma won't have tried to find a means of escape, however. Not because it isn't in the blonde's nature, but rather because it _is_. She knows Emma well after spending so long forced to coexist alongside her, and she will hand it to the younger woman that she is usually pretty smart when it comes to looking out for herself. The Saviour is remarkably flakey and quick to run from situations where she feels uncomfortable or threatened, but she has learnt from her time spent wandering the world clueless and alone to be cautious and rely on her common sense.

 _Something which her mother had often_ lacked _; preferring to play the hero and then the martyr over saving her own hide._

Emma won't have tried to escape, as to do so from any of the upstairs rooms would be suicide.

"And that's if she were _lucky_..."

The Queen murmers with an amused smirk; somewhat relishing the idea of the younger woman screaming with the pain of a shattered vertebrae. Looking back down into the dark crimson of her wine, she smiles wistfully, before pulling a small compact mirror seemingly from nowhere.

* * *

Closing her eyes as she stands beneath a steady torrent of hot water, Emma frowns as she strives to come up with any semblance of a plan that doesn't involve likely injury or death. It is excruciatingly frustrating to be in such a dilemma posed by something as trivial as the walls of her own _house_ , with those she knows and trusts less than a _mile_ a way; completely oblivious.

" _Someone's_ going to start asking questions if you don't show up for a while..."

Right. For a _while_. Possibly even a couple of days, and again she knows this is something for which she has only herself to blame. She has always been reliable when shit hits the fan, but right now, to her knowledge, the 'shit' the town faces is currently right here downstairs drinking wine. When the others don't require her immediate assistance, she acknowledges that she has a bit of a habit of keeping to herself. Sure, she's usually happy to see any of the close knit group that has come together over the last year or so when they seek her out. She's always pleased to see Henry when he shows up, even if only to loot her cupboards and call her out on her failures when they indulge in a two-player game on the Xbox. She appreciates that her parents seem to find it non-negotiable when it comes to swinging by a couple of times a week to _re_ -stock said looted cupboards and cook up something other than pasta or toast- she's told them a dozen times that she _can_ cook, at least some staples, but has openly admitted that she finds the whole practice of little interest. She has grown used to spending most of her spare evenings with Hook; usually argument-free, and thus begging the question of why they even _need_ to talk about any kind of 'next step'. And she always looks forward to sharing a couple of drinks with the Mayor while Regina explains to her- with a patent blend of bemusement and patience- that she should really understand that's not how relationships _work_ by now.

 _They'll notice..._

She tries to comfort herself, but while she is generally glad to receive company, she knows also that the reality of the matter is that no one is going to find it strange if they _don't_ see her for a day or two.

"I am _not_ spending a couple of days holed up here with the Evil Queen."

She mutters irritably, but in the back of her mind she is beginning to realise that she might have little choice.

 _I'll lose my damn mind!_

Possibly... But she is uncomfortably aware that there may be more at stake than just her temper and mood. She may have _trouble_ seeing the woman downstairs as entirely loathsome when she wears such an appealing and well-liked form, but she's read, seen and heard enough to know that she needs to get out of here as soon as possible.

"All those times we talked about the past and I made fun of her... I _couldn't_ have spent that time discussing any potential weakness or bribe?!"

The blonde scolds herself as she works almond scented soap into a lather between her hands; taking her time as she has no wish to find herself back in the Queen's company all too soon. She supposes they _had_ discussed it, though. Or, rather, Regina has expressed several times that her evil side considered _love_ to be weakness. Not especially helpful, and also no longer _relevant_. The part of Regina that had finally let love win is probably sat in front of a fire reading a book with something tasteful playing softly in the background.

As for a _bribe_...

"You've got to let her keep playing this game."

She sighs, scrubbing at herself vigorously as though trying to unleash some of her building aggression. She's not even entirely sure just _what_ game the Queen is playing. She understands that it involves a great amount of amusement in making her feel uncomfortable, but she's fairly certain that she's only had a _taste_ of the rules.

"Fuck."

She reiterates, and she turns around to wash the suds from her slim frame with a sigh.

Before too long, the water begins to cool down, and she shuts it off before it can become properly cold. Stepping out of the shower, she stands naked on the bathmat that centres the room and watches a freshet of water trickle down her thigh to merge with another a little lower down. She's not washed her hair, but some of it has gotten wet, and it patters quietly behind her, splashing her heels. She studies herself in the mirror morosely before looking once more to the window.

 _Not an option, so let it be now. Come up with something else..._

She would if she _could_ , and she turns around angrily and punches the wall. She aims to her left, and her fist catches her towel hung up on its hook; cushioning the blow to leave her with nothing more than a miserable ache and little relief. Glaring down irritably, she seethes as she studies the hateful metal cuff encircling her wrist and tugs at it uselessly. She does so until her arm aches; scratching at it and yanking at it to no avail. Snarling in her frustration, she leans over the sink- droplets falling onto the while enamel from her bare flesh which prickles with cold- and she pumps a generous pool of Irish Spring soap into her palm before slathering it over the cuff.

"Come on..."

She mutters, knowing deep down that the charm put on the cuff long ago means her attempts are futile, and yet not knowing what else to _do_. The soap makes the cuff difficult to grip and find purchase- the metal and her wrist slippery and stinging- and she bares her teeth in rage as she succeeds in little more than opening up a few superficial nicks with her nails that smart cruelly as they come in contact with curiously green suds.

"Come _on_!"

She snaps furiously, as though she might be able to _bully_ the cuff into submission, and she glares up at herself reflected in the glass, aware that her cheeks have flared red with anger, before stumbling back when clear glass mists purple and she stands face to face with the Queen; her kitchen reflected back at her.

"That's not going to work..."

The brunette smiles, almost singing in her glee, and the blonde throws her hand over herself protectively as she glowers back murderously.

"What the _fuck_!? How long have you been-"

"-Long enough."

The Queen smirks, before leaving the glass once more unoccupied and reflecting back the blonde's own shocked rage.

Grabbing her towel, Emma throws the door open and storms out onto the landing, standing undecided between her bedroom and the stairs with her fists clenched and her eyes glittering with fury

"Regina!"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** _This one is fun! enjoy :) Please review!_

* * *

" _Regina_!"

Catching melodic laughter from downstairs, Emma grits her teeth and stalks to her bedroom; slamming the door so hard that it just bounces back open. More laughter at this, and she closes her eyes and takes a sharp breath in through her nose, before wrenching open the top drawer of her dresser and fishing for underwear.

"Oh, why so angry?"

The brunette asks, now stood in the doorway, and the younger woman is certain she must have used her powers to manage this, as she'd not heard a single footstep creep up the stairs.

"Why do _you_ think?! That was fucked up!"

Emma snaps angrily, and the Queen rolls her eyes as she takes a seat on the blonde's bed and watches her yank plain black cotton up under her towel.

"I once _beheaded_ a man for ruining a pleasant symphony accompanying dinner. He came in late and flat. Do you really believe you have it so hard?"

The darker woman enquires silkily, and she raises a brow when rather than quake with fear, the blonde rolls her own eyes and mutters sarcastically

"I'm sorry, did I _ask_ for a resume? I don't _care_ what you did back then, I just don't want you using _my_ mirrors to appease your grossly vouyeristic tendencies."

The Queen stills at this. Her shared memory with her lesser half suggests that she should be unsurprised by the younger woman's response, but the residue of her reign has her completely dumbfounded that the idiot blonde might be so recklessly bold; Snow's kin or not.

"You would do well to watch your tongue."

She warns, enjoying the view when Emma rounds on her with an expression that could kill, and goading lightly

"Oh, desist with that _temper_. It's not as though I caught you doing anything _interesting_."

"That's not the _point_!"

The blonde snaps, although she silently thanks whichever deity might be up there that she'd not decided to relieve her tension in any other way.

 _Oh right, because this situation just_ screams _for a little self-indulgence the second the opportunity is granted..._

Crossing her arms angrily over the folds of the towel providing her modesty, Emma elaborates

"What you did was... It was..."

She frowns as she tries to find the right word- or, rather, a word that might have _any_ effect on the woman sat studying her on the bed- but she falters when the brunette chuckles at her failure to finish strong.

"Evil?"

Regina prompts, savouring the word, and the younger woman sighs and looks away; unwilling to provide the brunette with any more bait than she already has.

"You best get used to it, dear."

The Queen warns in a falsely commiserating tone, before finishing mildly

"I don't see what all the _fuss_ is about. It was a perfectly pleasant view."

Green eyes flicker up to find her own haughtily, before Emma turns around and goes back to rooting in the dresser.

"Aw. Shy?"

The Queen teases, and the younger woman glances over her shoulder to offer a withering look.

"So sweet."

The brunette smirks, before raising a brow in surprise when the blonde yanks irritably at her towel to send it pooling around her ankles, leaving her in just a scant slash of midnight.

Emma says nothing, and remains stood facing the dresser as she searches for the one pair of lounge pants she owns that don't have a hole in them somewhere. She is furious at the brunette for her inappropriate move, but she is beginning to get even _more_ angry that the latter should believe that she might be so easily intimidated. She is not often one to flaunt her body by any other means than preferring tight jeans, and that's more a case of practicality then it is fashion; baggier denim often becoming cumbersome if running about as she finds she needs to do all too frequently. That said, she has never been particularly body _shy_ either, and her current discomfort has very little to do with what the brunette might have seen, and a whole lot to do with the perverse nature of how she caught her glimpse.

 _You played dirty..._

She seethes silently, but she knows she's a fool for finding herself even remotely surprised. Still, the Queen's current silence is a small victory, as it is the hushed gasp of one witnessing something unexpected rather than initially crass. She's sure there will be twisted and confusing words to follow, but right now, she just enjoys a moment's peace. After all, this is hardly anything new for her. She'd spent six months of her life in a facility where she couldn't even fucking _pee_ without an audience, and showers were a very communal affair. Hell, even after being shunted over to Solitary given her 'condition', she'd still been scrutinised by a guard if she so much as wanted to shave her legs. Not to mention, during the months leading up to her arrest, her main source of a place to wash and change had been to befriend one of the receptionists at the local gym and use their showers and locker rooms. She suffers no issue or embarrassment in baring her flesh, she has just never really been the sort to do so as a fashion statement.

"How did you come by those marks?"

The brunette enquires with tangible curiosity, and the blonde looks back at her, before glancing down at her backside.

"Sometimes things get clumsy with only one hand. _You_ figure it out."

She offers cooly, and the Queen wets her bottom lip before taking it between her teeth as she studies the younger woman hungrily.

"You see, dear? Sometimes you _can_ be interesting."

"Right."

Emma sighs, before turning around to face her captor and speaking up boldly.

"I can be. _You_ used to be, too. _This_ , though? _Now_? Not so much. Honestly, it's like being held prisoner by a bad caricature."

"... I suggest you stop there, Miss Swan. I will give you that one without retribution seeing as my mood has lifted to match my current view. You can _have_ your cheap shot in return for the trick with the mirror. One more comment like _that_ , though, and I'll have my _own_ go at you."

The Queen hisses, holding out her hand and watching the minute change in the younger woman's appetising defiance as a blade- curved and sharp- materialises in her palm.

"The marks _I_ make _won't_ be accidental."

She warns quietly, and although Emma strives to keep her aloof composure, the brunette catches a ripple in her throat as she swallows, while a small shadow slices her jaw. She imagines that the younger woman has her teeth firmly clenched and that this might be in a rather wise attempt to keep herself from saying anything she might regret.

 _A shame, really..._

Smiling to rub in her victory, the brunette makes a slow and purposeful show of dropping her gaze down to assess the blonde openly as she stands all but bare. She is silently impressed when Emma makes no move to shield her view; the younger woman refusing to back down even if she won't quite dare bite back with the threat currently on the table. It is a side to Emma she both likes and loathes, and one of the main causes of confusion she'd begun to suffer whenever thinking about the blonde back in her Mansion when she'd felt compelled to behave in a manner so strict and boring and futile.

Now, she drinks in pale skin and toned muscle shamelessly, silently congratulating herself on having chosen this particular way of getting to her eventual revenge. The blonde's hair covers her fairly generously, but not completely, and the Queen is able to spy enough to warrant the smirk she flashes back up into eyes narrowed with rage. Winking coquettishly in response, she makes herself comfortable against the headboard of the blonde's bed- offering quite an indulgent display of flesh herself- and places the blade theatrically on the nightstand where she can easily reach it.

 _Even though we_ both _know, I have no need for it. But sometimes, a tactile threat just adds a little flair to the show._

Emma certainly seems to think so, and this doesn't necessarily come as a surprise to the Queen. The younger woman has finally gotten to grips with her power, but it is still usually not her first resort when in a crisis. There are still plenty of occasions where the blonde will reach for her gun before remembering that she has so much _more_ to play with at her fingertips. Old habits die hard, and nurtured fears are often the strongest. It has been over the course of only a few years that she has been programmed to understand the threat of magic, but a good _thirty_ odd that have taught her to mind a weapon. Her eyes flicker from the blade to the woman reclined comfortably on her bed before she turns around once more and finally finds what she's been looking for.

"Shame."

The Queen offers huskily, and Emma hesitates as she pulls up loose cotton pants, before yanking them over her hips and tying them tightly in place. She detects a cruel, playful note in the brunette's tone but no immediate warning, and so she pulls out a sweater and covers herself up with a sigh of relief. Turning back to the Queen, she eyes her reproachfully, wondering just what in the hell to expect next.

"You know, this would be much more fun if you stopped being so painfully uptight."

The darker woman sighs, and she is met with predictable silence.

"...Suit yourself. You're lucky, the wine has gone to my head and I'm feeling kind. I wish to rest and think over my options as it has been a terribly arduous ordeal of stealth and hiding since finding myself so wonderfully free. I might finally get some _peace_ resting here knowing I will be undisturbed. I will tell you now though, I bore very quickly, Saviour. I suggest you take the evening to think of a more _appealing_ response than silence and vinegar; trust me, you're going to want it to have been _your_ decision to spice things up and not mine."

Dark eyes flicker pointedly to the blade on the table, while Emma's do the same.

"I'm tired, though. You can think on that until morning. Come now, get into bed."

"...With you?"

Emma frowns, and the brunette laughs lightly as the blonde's face is a picture of confusion and dubiety.

"Well, how _else_ do you propose I make sure you're not up to no good. Someone's got to keep an _eye_ on you."

She smirks, waiting expectantly for the younger woman to do as she's told. Emma grits her teeth as she looks once more from the blade to the hateful woman beckoning her onto the bed, before she finally takes a few wooden steps in that direction. She doesn't really see what else she can do, but she's having trouble getting her legs to work as everything about this just feels entirely wrong. Finally, she pulls herself gingerly up onto the covers beside the Queen, before thrashing back wildly when the darker woman pounces on her without warning.

"Just in _case,_ though..."

The brunette breathes into her ear, conjuring up Emma's own handcuffs from the station and using the element of surprise to force the younger woman's wrist up over her head to lock her in place.

"What the _hell_!?"

Emma snarls up at her, and the Queen sits back on her knees looking down at the blonde with her lips pulled into a wicked smirk.

"Well, will you look at _that_..."

She muses quietly, brushing some of the younger woman's hair out of her face and leaning over her as she drinks in the discomfort glittering in green eyes.

"You realise, you can only play this game for so long, right?"

Emma hisses, moving uncomfortably as a hand comes to rest softly over her stomach.

"You're going to fuck up, and when you do, I'm going to _kill_ you."

She warns, and the brunette throws her head back as she laughs gleefully; her corset riding low and allowing an appetising sight as she shakes with her mirth. Finally, she looks back down at her captive, her lashes wet with hilarity.

"No."

Is all she says, shaking her head.

The younger woman swallows; ruffled by the Queen's queer response. Dark eyes glitter before the Queen leans over her once again, and rich scarlet brushes against her cheek before trailing down to find her mouth. A momentary touch of the brunette's tounge to her top lip, before the darker woman pulls away.

"You just don't understand it yet, do you? You can't _win_ this one, Saviour. I am reborn. I have no _weakness_. You... Well you're mine until I get tired of you. Sad but true. You can't... Win."

The Queen reiterates, running her fingers gently down the exposed flesh of the arm restrained behind the blonde's head as she smiles.

"No."

Emma warns, not with laughter as the brunette had uttered this word, but with anger.

"I've fought you before, in many forms. In many guises. I've gone up against you... And guess _what_ , Your Majesty? I always _win_."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** _Question for you guys, in future chapters where it is Regina and not the Evil Queen, is it preferable to marker these by having them in italics? Or is it obvious/ fine as is? Let me know what you think :) I'm not too sure about this one as I was really enjoying writing the other scenes, but I think this should tie things in a little as it all goes along, so I hope my concerns are unfounded :/ Hope you enjoy and please review!_

* * *

Looking back over her shoulder at the sound of the door, Regina smiles as she pours fresh beans into the coffee machine. It's her second cup this morning, so she holds back a little, knowing that she'll likely have a couple more later at the Diner.

"Hi, mom."

Henry greets as he flops into one of the chairs surrounding her kitchen table.

"Good morning. You're up early."

She comments, leaning against the counter as she regards him amiably. The clock above the door reads a little past eight thirty, but she's been up for over two hours herself. This is simply a matter of habit these days, as there are no longer any meetings or presentations she needs to get up for and host under her guise as Mayor. Most of what she does nowadays is in close collaboration with the Sheriff- well, _one_ of the Sheriff's, although she refuses to think of the Charmings as proper candidates for the role and rather simply as impossibly nosy parents- and as such, she is rarely called out until noon. Occasionally, she will allow herself a lie in, but most days she gets up along with the sun so that she can get a good head start on her day.

 _I seem to be alone in this family on that one..._

She smirks to herself. She presumes Henry has come over from Emma's, and therefore his early rising does come as a surprise. Ever since he turned about nine, the boy has been an unusually late riser, and his entering teenage years has only encouraged this. When he sleeps over at hers, she will usually wake him up around ten as it frustrates her watching him waste the day away, but she knows that when he stays with Emma, the blonde is unlikely to be up much before he is if she can help it.

"Neal kept crying."

He sighs, and the brunette frowns as she refills her mug before taking a seat opposite him.

"You stayed with Snow and David?"

"Yeah, grandma asked if I could babysit for them last night and I fell asleep."

He shrugs, and Regina smirks before asking silkily

"And Violet? Did she happen to come and help?"

" _Yes_ , she did. And, _no_ , she didn't stay over. David drove her home before her curfew."

He rolls his eyes, and the brunette grins as she sips her coffee.

"Have you guys figured out anything more about the ship?"

Henry asks, getting up and helping himself to some juice. What he's _really_ in the mood for right now is some pop tarts, but he has yet to win Regina over on that front. He supposes he should have gone over to Emma's seeing as he's not had any breakfast, but Regina's is closest, and she'd been more likely to actually be _awake_ to let him in. This is something that is only a problem in the morning, as while he has keys to each house, both women have a habit of leaving their own in the lock before retiring to bed, meaning his set is completely useless when trying to get in. On one occasion, his answer to this had been to attempt to crawl in through Emma's open kitchen window, and it had been quite an eventful morning when she'd come stalking into the room to meet him with her gun held out in front of her. After a few choice words, he'd gone around the house where she'd let him in through the front door, scolding him irritably not to try anything like that again. It had been on the tip of his tongue to suggest that she might not be in a place to question alternative ways of entering a property, but the state of her hair and shorts had suggested he'd roused her from sleep, and he has learnt that it's generally best to wait until the blonde has had a cup of coffee before appealing to her sense of humour. Instead, he'd lamented the hypocrisy of the situation to Regina over lunch later in the day, and the brunette had laughed conspiringly in agreement.

"Not that I know of. I know Granny had a couple more people come in to the Diner, but there's no way that everyone's been accounted for, and there's still little clue what they're all doing here. Unless you learned anything new yesterday? Did you go with Emma and Hook to make more introductions?"

"I went with Hook before we went to work on the boat. I thought Emma was with you."

"She was supposed to be, but I figured she must have decided to go and help at the Diner."

Regina frowns. She had expected Emma in the graveyard the previous day as the blonde had mentioned she'd come out to meet them, but when she'd failed to show up, it simply seemed logical that she'd have decided to accompany Hook instead. After all, the spell cast over the crypt was to be blood magic, which they had discussed the previous evening, so she'd have been of no help other than offering companionship.

"No, I think Hook was hoping she'd come and join us, but I haven't seen her."

Henry shrugs. He does so in a way that suggests there might be more to it, and the Mayor supposes that they both know things are a little tense now and then since they've come home. Other than some concerning signs offered by Hyde when they've visited in him cell, there doesn't appear to be any immediate threat to them or the town, and this means that there is time and space to breathe. It means that she's been able to grieve and sort through her various thoughts and emotions, much as the others have been able to do also. When talking to Snow about this, the schoolteacher had shared her relief and enjoyment of the fact, despite assuring her that she understood it might be hard having more time to think about Robin. When she'd spoken to _Emma_ though, the blonde had seemed harried and much less thrilled to have time to step back and assess her situation. The situation in question has mainly been the blonde's living situation, and while she has tried to help the younger woman get to the bottom of why she still struggles with the impending changes likely to happen in her life, Emma seems no closer to finding an answer than _she_ is to understanding the Sheriff herself in this instance. Usually, she can read Emma quite well, and over the last year, the younger woman has come to her for advice more and more often, but when it comes to Hook, there's something that changes in the blonde's expression just recently, and at first she'd thought it might be nervousness, but since coming back from New York she's started to wonder if it might be something else.

She imagines Henry must have picked up on something similar, as while he likes the Pirate well enough, he often opts to stay with her if he knows Emma and Hook might end up discussing anything all too deep of an evening.

"That's odd."

She muses lightly, frowning as it _does_ seem a little strange that the younger woman hadn't helped out at _all_ yesterday.

"Hook was suggesting how they might save space by moving a few things in the living room..."

Henry shrugs, and he doesn't need to elaborate any further than that.

"Oh."

She sighs, taking her mug over to the dishwasher.

"Emma suggested maybe he should, uh, go keep busy."

The boy shrugs, and Regina nods as she glances thoughtfully out the window to spy a large crow perched in the bare boughs of her apple tree. She supposes it would be quite likely that Emma might have decided to stay in if she were in an unfavourable mood yesterday, but it does seem a little odd that she'd not even sent her a message to check everything had gone smoothly back in the graveyard.

 _It's a little odd that she didn't message me at_ all _._

Yes, that too. She'd hardly say that they text each other with the eager frequency Henry and Violet seem to favour, but she can generally count on a couple of messages throughout the evening. This is something that has increased over time, but definitely since Robin's passing. Both from Emma, and from Snow too. It is one of many things that she has discovered comes with having genuine friends, and she has found herself privately touched. Snow's messages have petered out a little as things have returned to normal, but they had originally been rather more caring in nature and a kind offer of consolation. Emma's are much as they always have been; short and without any discernible emotion. Sure, she will send an obligatory 'how are you?' before getting to the point if she requires a favor, but mostly she'll just send her odd thoughts and dry humour seemingly as and when it occurs to her.

Rarely with anything too giddy as she'll sometimes receive from Zelena, and _never_ finished with a kiss as she always receives from Snow.

 _She's reliable, though..._

Surprisingly, she is, and this in itself suggests an interest and care absent from the blonde's words, as the whole thing hadn't seemed to come naturally at first. Over time though, their messaging has become second nature, and she walks over to the windowsill where her phone is plugged in to charge.

"I'll give her a call. We were going to head back out to the ship today and cover more ground. I'm still concerned Hyde might have found more ways to threaten us. I'll check that this time she's planning on actually showing _up_."

She informs Henry, her tone coloured with a sense of exasperation that she doesn't really feel.

 _Another thing that's second nature; talking about Miss Swan with an air of bemusement._

She smirks, tapping in her passcode and checking for any missed calls.

Nothing.

"I'm sure she just forgot or something yesterday."

Henry shrugs, seeming to feel none of the disquiet that is slowly beginning to gnaw at his mother beneath the surface.

"Maybe."

She agrees, pressing speed dial.

"I'm going to go watch TV."

Henry mouths and she nods distractedly as the blonde's phone rings once before going straight to voicemail.

"Emma, it's me. Call me when you get this, I need to know what the plans are for later."

She hangs up and weighs her cell in her palm as her brow furrows pensively. Spying an unread text from yesterday, she opens up her messages where it had gotten lost between several from Zelena, but doesn't recognise the number. Opening it, she can tell who it's from straight away.

 _Hi. Charge low. Using Lily's phone. Will be there. E._

Checking the time the message was sent, she concludes it refers to their rendezvous at the graveyard. Frowning deeper, she puts her cell back on the windowsill and pours herself some water. She considers calling Mary Margaret to ask if she's heard from Emma, but she doesn't want the younger woman to ask her why she's curious. After all, it's hardly as though the blonde has given any reason to come up missing, and she doesn't want to worry her parents by asking questions. She supposes she could call Hook, but from the sounds of things, he won't have seen the Sheriff since she'd asked him to butt out, and it's unlikely that her calling to check in will go down all that well.

 _Residual damage following the Marion problem..._

She's fairly sure this is the case, as Killian has never quite warmed to her since his and Emma's little stint in the book. She had at first thought this might be something to do with witnessing her as her darker self- and she can quite understand the revulsion- but more and more, she's slowly started to think it might have a lot more to do with how Emma had reacted to her anger in face of her mistake. It had been a pivotal point in the blonde's relationship with Hook, and he'd confided an incredibly grand gesture in the selling of his ship to help her... And yet the next couple of weeks had been spent not tending to their budding romance, but instead trying to patch up things with a woman who had once sworn to destroy her. Since then, she's noticed that Hook can be a little standoffish towards her, which hadn't bothered her in the slightest until she'd made the rather _selfless_ gesture of accompanying Emma on a trip down to _hell_ to help save him. She'd say that should warrant some sense of camaraderie.

 _And then some!_

But, while he has expressed his gratitude to her on several occasions, she is fairly sure that he doesn't altogether trust her when it comes to Emma. She has since simply accepted this and moved on.

She refuses- absolutely _refuses_ \- to think any deeper on why it might be.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she pushes herself from the counter and finds Henry in front of the TV in the front room.

"Are you and Violet planning to help at the Diner today?"

"Yeah, a little later. Violet said she'd meet me there at ten. Something about beauty sleep."

He grins, pulling a face. She smiles back as she grabs her coat from the back of the door, informing him

"Well, Emma might beg the same excuse, but she'll just have to make do. I'm going to go see if she has any more information on all of this."

"Good luck."

Henry chuckles, and the Mayor rolls eyes dark with good humour and lets herself out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** _Sorry for the wait. Enjoy and please review! :)_

* * *

Waking up with a start, Emma groans as a gnawing pain shoots down her arm. Opening one eye and squinting against the light filtering in through the window, she tries to move before realising where that low ache has come from. Glancing up at her hand which hangs limp cuffed against the bedpost, she opens and closes her fist a few times with a wince to try and get some feeling back into her fingers.

"Ugh."

She complains groggily, rubbing at her eyes with her other hand and spying the metal cuff biting into her wrist.

" _Ugh_!"

Squeazing her eyes shut for a second as she tries to regain control of her temper, she eventually pushes herself up a little awkwardly so that she sits and is able to survey the room. There's no sign of the Queen; the covers to her right pushed aside, which strikes her as odd as she'd always presumed Regina to be the sort to tuck them neatly back in place even if only disappearing off for a midnight bathroom excursion. She frowns at the connotations that she's given something like the brunette's bedhabits- in _any_ context- any thought at all, before it dawns on her that she had spent a couple of evenings sniggering to herself giddily when the Mayor had insisted on neatening up her things when camping in Neverland.

It would seem the Queen is a little less orderly.

 _No, she just presumes someone_ else _should do it for her._

Sighing, the blonde looks over to the bedroom door which stands open a crack, and she makes out the familiar whine of the pipes as the darker woman appears to be taking a shower.

"Sure, just make yourself at home."

She grumbles, running a hand through her hair before rubbing once more at her eyes with a grimace.

"Shit... What the..."

She growls as they sting something rotten, before it occurs to her that she must have slept with her contacts in and has now succeeded pushing them around to further irritate her eyes. Working with practised caution, she finally succeeds as she strives to remove them; creating a soft fuzz where once there were angles and sides to her furniture. Reaching over awkwardly with her arm bent back uncomfortably, she manages to pull open the drawer to her nightstand on the other side of the bed and locate her glasses. With these on, the world comes back into focus, and she fishes around hopefully in the drawer until she finds what she's looking for.

"Got you."

She murmurs, bringing the hairpin between her fingers up to her mouth to use her teeth to pull it apart. Working quickly, she sighs with relief when she gets the handcuffs to spring open, and rubs at her wrist where a raw circle of red promises to bruise.

"Bitch."

Still, she supposes things could be worse. She'd been a little unsure last night after uttering such bold words- fighting talk- and goading the Queen with the promise that she would beat her as she always has done. Her words had rung true, and she'd seen in dark eyes that they'd _both_ known it. She can think of _better_ times perhaps to have said them however, then when cuffed to her bed and at a definite disadvantage on almost every level. Her eyes had flickered over to the blade on the nightstand- as had the Queen's- but in the end, the darker woman had simply showed her teeth in a snarl- completing her look of rage- before turning angrily away from her and killing the lights with a flick of her wrist.

 _You could have paid for that one, Swan..._

She knows she could have, and knows she should be more careful. Still, she can't help but feel that the Queen's lack of retribution had been surprising not only to _her_ , but also to the brunette herself. If she didn't know any better, she'd say she's gotten under the Queen's skin just a little bit.

"Well, I've had a _lot_ of practise."

She murmurs, but she knows it's more than that. It hadn't been annoyance on the brunette's face. It had been outrage. The look someone gets when they haven't dealt with a situation before, and don't know quite where to start in doing so now.

 _You did. You got under her skin. Because with Regina, it was different; it was a game. With Her Majesty, she doesn't know what to do with the fact that you don't wish to give her what she wants._

The thought that this would ordinarily be rectified by punishment- _hell, she'd been hinting at_ death _only last night_ \- crosses her mind, but so does the way the darker woman had looked at her.

 _Her Royal Highness wishes to play, and it's driving her just a little_ mad _that you're not joining in._

A smirk at this, before the deeper meaning hits her, and the blonde bites at her lip; confused.

Pushing herself from the bed, she walks over to the window to survey the lawn and sees that it's raining and miserable outside.

 _Even less likely someone's going to come round to see you on a whim._

Sighing, she pads to the bedroom door and peeks down the hall. The bathroom door is closed, and the water still drones through the pipes. Weighing up her options, she eventually descends the stairs, her eyes locked on the front door yet not making any move in that direction once she stands on the bottom step.

 _There is no chance in_ hell _that door will open if I try it..._

She knows this, and yet she is unable to resist giving it a go after all. Extending her hand dubiously, she touches her fingers to the handle with her eyes slitted and teeth clenched with trepidation.

Nothing happens.

Raising a brow, she chances a quick glance over her shoulder, before pushing the handle down. Suddenly, the cool metal becomes red hot, and she yelps as she steps back swiftly, stuffing her fingers in her mouth.

" _Knew_ that would happen."

She grumbles to herself irritably, stalking down the hall towards the kitchen and running her abused fingers under the cold flow of the faucet. Feeling uncomfortably helpless and unsure what to do with herself, she opts to see to the _one_ issue she _can_ solve right now and pulls out a couple of slices of bread. Slotting them into the toaster, she grabs a jar of peanut butter from the pantry and waits impatiently; suddenly aware of just how hungry she is.

By the time the Queen comes sashaying into the room, she's on her third slice and has her mouth full.

"I should _punish_ you for that, you know?"

The darker woman snaps angrily, and the blonde turns to face her; wondering if the brunette refers to her helping herself to breakfast- _in my own house goddamnit_ \- or the fact that she's freed herself from her restraints. She can't help but feel that the fact the hateful woman shares a memory with Regina should leave her unsurprised by _either_ of these events.

"How did you do it?"

The Queen demands, and Emma swallows her mouthful with the conclusion that the darker woman is asking her about the handcuffs, as any idiot can make toast.

"Hair pin in the night stand."

She shrugs, and dark eyes narrow suspiciously as the brunette emits a low

"Hmmm..."

Lowering her eyes from that intense gaze awkwardly, the blonde drums her fingers on the counter before asking stoically

"Do you want coffee?"

This domestic offering sits strangely between them, despite the fact that it is fairly ordinary for the two to grab a drink on a weekend such as this.

 _No, it was ordinary when it was_ Regina _and she'd show up in the nice winter coat she bought recently. It's_ not _ordinary when it's a woman dressed it's leather pants-_ tight _leather pants- who wants to kill your mother._

"Yes."

The brunette nods after a moment's hesitation, frowning as she watches the younger woman start up the machine.

"You're wearing glasses."

She points out accusingly, and the blonde nods without looking round as she agrees silkily

"I am."

"You don't wear glasses."

Dark brows furrow deeper, and Emma turns to glance at the Queen and shrugs.

"Not usually, not around you. I wear contacts."

"Oh."

The darker woman answers uncertainly, looking momentarily thrown.

"You look... Weird."

"Thanks."

Emma sighs, pulling two mugs down from the cupboard and filling one up for her unwanted guest. She is uncomfortably aware of the way the brunette studies her as she does so, and she keeps her eyes lowered to the black pool of her coffee.

"I don't drink mine black."

The Queen snaps, and the blonde rolls her eyes, midway through opening her mouth to remind the brunette that she knows where the fridge is, before the darker woman holds up a hand; suddenly alert.

"Shh. Someone's..."

She stills, her eyes glistening purple for a moment. Putting her mug down, Emma pipes up eagerly

"Coming? Someone's _coming_?!"

"... Oh. Oh _my_..."

The darker woman purrs, glittering eyes once more finding her captive and drinking her in with a growing smile.

"This just got interesting."

She advises gleefully, and Emma frowns, looking from the door to the Queen and pleading

" _What_ did? Who _is_ it? Come on, what are you-"

"Ah!"

The brunette warns her, taking a hold of the blonde's arm- more for show than necessity, as her touch stops the younger woman from being able to do anything other than comply- and marching her into the hallway. Pulling open the door to the coat closet, she shoves the blonde in before locking it; a sly trick as the doors have no lock to speak of. What they _do_ have, is generous gaps between the slats- the style similar to Venetian blinds- allowing Emma an obstructed but decent view out, but no real way for anyone to see in.

"Regina!"

The blonde warns, before staggering back against several heavy coats; her face a picture of surprise when absolutely nothing comes out.

"Hey!"

She tries again, pounding her fists on the door, but she may as well be pounding on air; nothing but a very slight breathless sigh coming from her fists.

"Fuck!"

She screams silently, and the darker woman gives her a sly wink through the slats before taking a couple of steps back. She does so to give Emma a better view, and the blonde's eyes widen with horror as she watches chestnut locks and black leather get lost on a haze of smoke, leaving the Queen stood grinning and wearing her guise. Eyes flickering disconcertedly over thick gold and pale features, Emma's mouth opens in a maw of disquiet as she spies an impossibly tight concoction she has no recollection of ever owning. It is not dissimilar to some of the dresses she'd favoured when plagued by the darkness, but without the jarring silver of her hair and venomous red painting her lips, it speaks not of evil- not of an _outfit_ \- but rather simply of a coy flirtatiousness she's never been able to pull off.

"Oh god..."

She groans silently.

With the Queen wearing her likeness, it turns out she can pull the look off just fine.

Resting her head against cool wood with her eyes squeezed shut in trepidation, Emma swallows as a light knock sounds at the front door.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** _This was a bit complicated to write, but a lot of fun! Hope it's also fun to read! comments would be lovely :)_

* * *

Raising her fist to knock lightly on the younger woman's door, Regina frowns. For a moment, something seems a little off to her, and she almost takes a step back as though to distance herself from that queer feeling. A second later however, and whatever had seemed amiss eludes her, as everything seems just as it always does, and she wonders with a small sigh whether she's been working herself too hard just recently.

On the other side of painted wood, the Queen- wearing the blonde's guise- makes a swift move of her fingers to relinquish the cloak she has thrown over the house, leaving it once more a little untidy and completely ordinary. Casting a sly smirk behind her, she grips the handle to let in their guest.

In the closet, Emma grits her teeth in trepidation. She has a fairly good idea of who has come to see her, and she can't decide if she's more annoyed at the fact that she's not in the mood for Hook to think he's forgiven for yesterday's fallout, or about the display she's about to witness. She has never been a particularly jealous person- and this situation is just a little too odd to know if 'jealousy' is even the right word, as the Pirate will be none the wiser- but has always been one to temper her actions and words, and this loss of control doesn't sit well with her at all.

 _Let this nightmare commence..._

Pulling open the door, the Queen smiles; flashing white teeth in a rather more predatory fashion than they are usually shown.

"Emma..."

Regina greets, dark eyes flickering down to take in the younger woman's outfit before moving swiftly back up to meet cool green. She takes care not to allow any hint of emotion to show on her face. Ordinarily, she quite enjoys winding the blonde up about her fashion sense, and she has done so something fierce following Emma's brief foray into evil. She takes silent pride in the self-indulgent notion that it is for this reason the younger woman has started dressing in a confusingly feminine manner now and then; not quite hitting her mark all the time, but seeming to want to compensate for _something_.

She _hopes_ it's her comments causing this, it would be a shame to think otherwise.

"Hiya."

The blonde greets her with a brilliant grin, and both Regina and Emma frown for a second as the tone is a little off; almost a caricature of the younger woman's mannerisms.

"Come in."

The Queen orders, and Regina complies, freeing herself of her coat and hanging it on the hook beside the door. She wears smart dress pants and a low cut sweater in an appealing shade of burgundy. Eyes dropping once again to distractingly tight fabric, she swallows and asks lightly

"Am I interrupting?"

A very faint blush colours her cheeks as she does so, and the Queen smirks as she pushes back gloriously long hair coquettishly; relishing that pretty, luxurious weight that she'd enjoyed herself back in her reign.

"No..."

She replies with teasing innocence, and she drops her gaze down at herself for a moment before confiding casually

"Of course not. I was hoping you might come by."

Another smile as she lets the connotations sink in, and Regina raises a brow but says nothing, simply stepping towards the kitchen presumptively.

"Oh, no, dear. I thought we'd drink in the living room for a change."

The Queen stops her, placing a hand on her arm and matching her gaze intently.

"... Fine."

The Mayor agrees after a beat of silence, finding the blonde's use of the term 'dear' rather strange, and yet- curiously- nowhere near as jarring as she feels she _should_. It's a term Emma has used often when mocking her, and it has always sounded foreign and laughable whenever she's uttered it before. Now, it slips off her tongue like honey, and the blonde's usual habit of pulling back to regain her personal space is nowhere to be seen.

"I'll go make us some coffee. Take a seat."

The Queen smiles invitingly, and the brunette nods a little dazedly as she notes Emma wears her favorite perfume. It's not the one that the younger woman has taken to wearing recently, which is nice enough but a little sweet. It's the one the blonde used to wear when she'd first come to town which is rather more delicate with a subtle floral hint. Eyes dropping down to the younger woman's dress as she stalks for the kitchen, it crosses her mind that the Sheriff has changed her scent on purpose, but she swiftly pushes the idea aside.

 _How would_ she _know you preferred the other one?!_

 _And why would she_ care _?!_

She doesn't know, and truthfully it's a little hard to focus. She's been admittedly confused about how she sees the blonde recently, but this little encounter is starting to stir up some rather tangible answers to vague questions, and she shakes her head as she stands momentarily frozen in the hallway.

Emma lowers her head into her hands as she stands in the closet, considering for a moment simply sliding down to curl up into a tight ball, before her true nature wins out. She bangs her fists against the door uselessly, and screams a melody of silence.

"Regina! That's not _me,_ you idiot! Since when do _I_ act so fucking suave! Come on! Please! Come _on_!"

And for a second, the brunette seems to hesitate and cock her head, but then the Mayor walks slowly into the living room and takes a seat. The door has been left wide open, allowing the blonde to maintain her forced voyeurism.

"'Gina..."

Emma groans, giving the door a good punch to release some of her aggression and yelping when her knuckles crack painfully; the flimsy wood seeming more like steel than veneer.

Before too long, the Queen comes stalking back into view, casting a sly glance towards the closet and offering a wink that seems off-puttingly salacious to the younger woman, who had spent a fair few sessions back in her bail bonds days trying to perfect the gesture in the mirror without success. She glowers back, knowing that the darker woman can't see her, but unable to pull any _other_ expression in the face of pure evil.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

The Queen purrs, and Emma imagines that Regina's look of surprise might be due to the fact that she can't recall _ever_ apologising for such a thing before.

"That's alright."

The Mayor smiles, watching curiously as the blonde stalks around the coffee table to take a seat beside her. Very _close_ beside her.

"Careful. It's hot."

"... I would presume so..."

Regina nods, glancing down to where the younger woman's pale thigh presses against her leg. Green eyes follow her gaze before finding brown with that same teasing innocence, and the Queen crosses her legs to allow dark fabric to slip up a little higher.

"So what's new? Have you talked to the others about Hyde? Any further thoughts on what might be going on in town?"

The Queen asks as she sips at her coffee, keeping her eyes locked with the brunette's in a way that causes the Mayor's breath to catch in her throat. She is used to Emma challenging her with her stare, but the blonde _usually_ does so when willing her to back down on something. It's usually an aggressive tactic, or- less frequently- a playful one. When they hang out though, the younger woman is mostly surprisingly laid back; occasionally a little moody depending on her day, but generally easy going. This, though, this is intense, and it actually intimidates her a little. Without her darker urges to bite back at the blonde, there have been occasions just recently where her unwillingness to punish and hurt when the Sheriff crosses the line with her smart-mouthed bickering has left her feeling a little wary. She _will_ still fight back and meet the blonde's wit with ease, but she no longer falls back on her ultimate defence of retaliating just that little touch too far to turn the situation from fiery back to cool and collected. She's stopped enjoying watching that sudden look that she knows so well- the look as though she's physically slapped her- alighting the blonde's face to bring on the comforting familiarity of their platonic relationship. So far, it's served her well that Emma is rather more closed off than she is, and will back down of her own accord when she senses things have become, well, a great deal too flirtatious.

 _Not_ now _, it seems..._

No. _Now_ the blonde studies her intently as she sits much too close in a dress they fits her wickedly well and yet doesn't seem the least bit in character.

 _I mean, the last time I showed up for coffee unannounced, the woman answered the door in her pyjamas and a sweater I can only presume was David's..._

"Nothing new has come up, really. I thought we might go check the woods in a bit as we discussed?"

"Just you and me?"

The Queen asks suggestively, and she bites at her lip- the blonde's lip- as she catches a small tick in the Mayor's jaw.

"Well. I thought that was what we'd said."

Regina replies with a care to keep any emotion from her tone, before carrying on with a frown

"Where _were_ you yesterday, anyway? I thought you were supposed to be meeting us out by my vault."

"Did you miss me?"

"What?... No. No, it would just have been nice if you'd let me know you weren't coming."

"Well, I'll be sure to come later."

The Queen smirks, and dark eyes widen at this blatant innuendo- not at all the younger woman's usual style as it lacks any real wit- and the Mayor takes a hasty sip of her coffee before spluttering.

"Did you... did you put _liquor_ in this!?"

She cries, and the blonde smiles as she takes an indulgent sip from her own cup, shrugging bare shoulders as she admits

"A little."

"Emma!"

"What? It's the weekend. You know, you and I should have a little more _fun_ , Regina. We work too hard."

The Queen laments huskily, leaning in to study the darker woman intently with her hand coming to rest on the latter's thigh. The Mayor stares back at her uncertainly, drinking in familiar features set in a very _un_ familiar- but not altogether unappealing- expression of seductiveness.

"Emma... What are you doing?"

She breathes, aware that there are only a couple of inches separating her lips from the blonde's.

"What would you _like_ me to do?"

The Queen challenges darkly, and this loaded question is met by a very telling silence.

In the closet, Emma digs her nails into her cheeks hard enough to mark as she feels a little nauseous with discomfort. She's furious at the Queen for pulling this inapproiate stunt, but also hellishly uneasy knowing she's going to have to explain all of this to Regina. The idea sits in her stomach like a lead weight, and part of it is due to the fact that it promises to be a very _awkward_ conversation, but part of it is also due to the silence following the Queen's cruel question. She knows that if the tables were turned and it was _she_ being tricked into thinking Regina was behaving so strangely towards her, she would hate such an uncomfortable revelation.

 _Why?! Why would you hate it if she told you that all the awkwardness was a ruse and false?_

Not really wanting to search for an answer to _that_ particular question, she pushes it aside and watches through the slats with baited breath.

 _Honestly, it should be crazy enough just to watch someone flirt with_ themselves _, but... I'm not even_ that _surprised..._

The silence between the Queen and the Mayor draws out dangerously, with neither woman pulling away.

"Well?"

The Queen prompts softly with her hand slipping slyly up a slender thigh, and Regina leans in just a little further before suddenly pushing herself up.

"I need to go sort a few things out. I'll see you in a bit."

She excuses uncomfortably, and the blonde rolls her eyes as she sits back with a sigh and knocks down the last of her coffee.

"Suit yourself."

"... I'll meet you out by the ship?"

"I'll be there."

The Queen nods, running her hand through long hair and adopting a bored expression that actually suits the blonde's features in a far more familiar way.

"Ok. Good. Thank you for the coffee, Miss Swan."

Regina forces a smile, before letting herself out the house with a shuddering breath. She walks quickly down the path, forbidding herself to look back. Once out of sight, she comes to a stop, worrying her bottom lip pensively with her tongue as she strives to get her head around what just happened.

 _That was... Odd._

Frowning as she tries to figure out where the punchline will have been to Emma's weird actions, she comes up empty, which just means she'll be missing something probably blindingly obvious. Surely.

 _Something's not right..._

Walking on slowly, she keeps her eyes cast down to the pavement as she tries to figure out what she's just experienced.

 _Maybe, though..._

 _No._

 _Surely..._

 _No._


	14. Chapter 14

Watching out of the living room window as the Mayor hurries down the path, the Queen makes a small movement with her hand and smirks at the sound of chaos behind her. Turning around, she watches as Emma brushes herself off with an angry glower in her direction.

"Careful."

She offers sweetly, and the blonde- who had been leant against the door in utter dismay when it had finally opened- storms towards the kitchen.

"That was so over the fucking line!"

Emma shouts, and the Queen rolls her eyes as she follows her captive and watches her chug orange juice from the fridge.

"Oh, calm down. It was just a little fun."

She scolds, and the younger woman offers her a death glare as she wipes her mouth and shuts the juice back behind the door; slamming it so hard that the glass bottles within tremble.

"Why would you go and _do_ that?"

"Well, it's in the name, I should think."

The Queen smiles, and she relishes the anger in the blonde's face as the latter leans against the counter with a sigh.

"It was fucked up... And stop with all _this_! Now!"

Emma orders, gesturing at her captor's attire and avoiding meeting her eyes as the darker woman still wears her guise and there is something hellishly unsettling about talking to herself. In doing so, her attention drops to the generous amount of flesh on display and she can feel her cheeks rouging furiously. Laughter at this, sultry and cruel, and it doesn't sound right coming from her throat at all.

"Seriously, I _mean_ it!"

"Oh, well, if you 'mean' it."

The Queen smirks, changing back into herself with a sigh of relief.

"Honestly, Saviour, that's probably the best you've ever looked. You should be _thanking_ me."

"Thanking you for making me look like a complete _idiot_?"

"What about any of what just happened made you look like an idiot? _She's_ the one that turned _down_ the offer. And it would be a significant step up from the Pirate."

"How... How are we even _having_ this conversation?!"

"You started it with all your grumbling."

The Queen points out breezily, and she primps at her hair- once more dark and straight; combed back to accentuate her features- as she eyes the younger woman up and down and smirks at her comparatively dowdy attire.

"You realise what you just did is going to backfire worse on _her_ than me?! Why are you trying to hurt _yourself_?"

"My dear, you must understand that the Mayor is more like an amputated defect riddled with _infection_ to me than any part of who I now am. That said, I know better than most that she could use a little fun. Alas, it seems you and your parents truly _have_ poisoned her with your moral high ground."

The darker woman scoffs derisively, and the blonde narrows her eyes as she watches the Queen stalk slowly closer.

"If you want to mess with _me_ , then mess with me. But leave the others- leave Regina- out of it."

Emma warns quietly, and the brunette flashes her teeth in a cruel smile as she mocks silkily

"You sound delightfully protective of her..."

"Is that supposed to offend me? You were part of her long enough to know how things work between us. I have _always_ protected her, and the effort has mostly been _reciprocated_. I don't know what messed up games you're playing, but I'm not going to let you hurt my friends."

"Sweet... One question, though; how do you plan to _stop_ me?"

"I-..."

The blonde starts and falters, before making a disagreeing noise in the back of her throat when the Queen lunges forwards and attacks her lips; slim fingers digging into her jaw to keep her in place. Without thinking, she bites back; sinking sharp teeth into the soft velvet of the darker woman's tongue.

"Bitch!"

The Queen pulls away, raising her fingers to her mouth and looking just as surprised as Emma, whose lips are smeared with a damning streak of scarlet. Touching her abused tongue experimentally, the brunette studies bloodied fingers before lunging once more for the blonde. This time, she stops with her nose an inch from the Savoiur's; her voice trembling with white rage.

"Don't go forgetting about that little _bracelet_ you're wearing, Swan. One more move like that and I'll make you scream. I've been willing to play this as a game so far, and you may think you've got it bad being on the wrong side of my teasing, but I assure you, you've seen _nothing_ yet. Your friends? Regina? No one _knows_ about your little situation here, and you better believe that's what's best for them. You can't stop me, Emma, so you better learn how to behave. You better think your next move through carefully."

The brunette seethes, and the younger woman swallows as the Queen pins her against the counter with the soft dig of her hips. She knows she could push her off relatively easily, but she also knows that to do so would be a mistake. Gritting her teeth, she forces out the only words she can think to appease the darker woman lent over her expectantly.

"I'm sorry."

She growls, and dark brows arch in a burlesque portrayal of surprise, before that sinister smile is back.

"No. But soon you _will_ be."

The Queen advises quietly, and she shows the younger woman her tongue stained red, before digging her own teeth slowly into the dents left by the Saviour's. Hissing in a curious mixture of ecstasy and pain, she grips at the blonde's jaw once more and kisses her deeply; finally pulling away her fingers to reveal two narrow smears of her blood down alabaster flesh.

"You will be."

She repeats, and Emma regards her warily; her mouth coppery from the darker woman's kiss, and her heart beating alarmingly fast as her breath hitches. She watches as the brunette steps away, eyes flickering down to tight black leather and the distracting bounty displayed by the Queen's corset, and she wipes at her lips awkwardly.

"You know, dear... I almost believe you might have enjoyed that..."

The darker woman teases, taking in flushed cheeks and blown pupils. The Sheriff shakes her head slowly in response, causing the brunette to laugh richly; knowing the troubled look glittering in green eyes all too well.

"Suit yourself. Denial always _was_ your specialty."

She purrs, turning for the door, and Emma catches herself watching her leave with a start and shakes herself out of her queer trance.

"Hey! Where are you _going_?"

"I'm sorry, my dear. If you want more, it will have to wait. Don't be _desperate_ now, Saviour."

"I... That's not why I'm asking."

Emma frowns, recoiling a little as the brunette licks her lips.

"Patience."

The Queen smirks as though her captive has said nothing.

"You told Regina you would meet her out in the woods. It would be rude to keep her waiting."

"But... You can't! You-"

"-I can do whatever I _please_!"

The Queen snaps, unleashing a sharp bolt of power to send the younger woman falling to her knees. She considers this new position with curious approval, before once more cloaking herself in the blonde's fair guise. This time, she dons the latter's more usual look of leather and denim, and she stalks out into the hallway to help herself to a pair of the Sheriff's boots. Looking up as she zips up sleek black leather, she spies Emma stood glaring at her from in the doorway to the kitchen; looking just a little uncertain as she is once more forced to challenge her own features.

"Ok, you can do what you want, you've made that clear. But, _please_ -"

"-Saviour, there is only _one_ scenario in which I have any interest in you using that word. Unfortunately, you've scheduled an arduous appointment which means it will have to _wait_ , and I must say Emma, I'm very disappointed."

The Queen smirks, nipping at the younger woman's tongue- soft and uninjured- before letting herself out with the teasing warning of

"I will see to you later. _Try_ to be patient until then."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** _Enjoy :) Please review :)_

* * *

Pacing the kitchen, Emma stalks with her fingers buried in her hair and her jaw clenched as she tries to keep her cool in the face of the Queen's latest little game. She can still taste the iron of the darker woman's blood on her tongue, and she stops in front of the fridge in order to find something to wash it away with. Her hand rests on the carton of orange juice, before opting for wine instead. It has been quite some time since she last indulged in a drink before noon, but she'd say the moment well and truly calls for it.

Swallowing down several large mouthfuls of Sauvignon Blanc, she closes her eyes as she breathes in sharply through her nose. Replacing the cap on the bottle, she slips it back in its place and closes the door. Her reflection stares back at her blearily in the brushed steel and she spies two streaks of scarlet painting her jaw. Wiping at them frantically with a noise of disgust, she resumes her pacing before halting in her tracks.

"What if..."

She starts, before hurrying down the hall and up the stairs to her room. She has no idea what the Queen has done with her cellphone, but doubts it will do her any good searching for it. There are _other_ ways to get in touch with the outside world though, and she's fairly sure that Regina has never actually been present when she's made use of her laptop. She supposes that if the brunette were to give it some thought, she'd likely presume that she _must_ own one, but there has never been any reason for the question to be addressed- any emails or documents easily accessed on her phone, or on the desktop in the Station- and she's willing to spare just enough optimism to hope that the Queen might not have thought too hard on the foreign concept of technology.

Entering her bedroom, she pulls a face as the windows remain closed up despite her preference for leaving them open to let in the fresh air. The result is that the room carries just a hint of the darker woman's scent; dangerous, but admittedly pleasant. Glancing over at dishevelled sheets and the handcuffs still dangling from the headboard, Emma crosses her fingers childishly as she kneels beside the bed and searches the shadows beneath. It's pure luck that has led to her laptop remaining stored up inside her suitcase, but she'll take any kind twist of fate she can get. She'd actually packed the old Macbook when they'd gone to find Henry in New York in case they might need it to look anything up. In the end, she'd simply used her phone, and she'd never even taken the thing out of the case. Since then, she's not given it any thought as she so rarely finds the time to use it; her TV hooked up with any shows Henry might feel like watching, and Hook resenting the thing due to obvious difficulties in being able to use a keyboard.

"Come on..."

She wills the mac as it starts up; asking for a password that she recalls after a moment's panic. She imagines the blip in her memory is likely stress related, as she has always been fastidious about things like login details; routinely changing them according to a private rule devised long ago in her bailbond's days. The home screen flashes up an image of the view from her apartment back in Boston and she supposes she really _doesn't_ get around to using the laptop very often! Opening up her emails, she frowns as a small warning triangle advises that she is unable to receive any incoming messages due to a connection error. Double clicking Network Diagnostics, she holds her breath as she already suspects what she soon finds to be the case.

Her network ID has been changed from _ESwanRes_ to a handle that has her positive that any attempts at trying to guess a password would be futile.

"Fuck."

She growls furiously, glaring at the new network name of _NiceTryDear_.

Still, not one to accept defeat unless it's threatened or beaten into her, she opts for one final stroke of luck and clicks on the password reminder hint in the hopes that she can get online via her security questions. Instead of the usual options, she is faced with a hateful taunt that she reads in the darker woman's voice

 _Do you really think you can outsmart me, Miss Swan?_

Punching the floor with a yelp as sharp pain shoots up her wrist, she rolls her eyes and bites the bait; typing angrily

 _Yes_.

The little dialogue box jiggles and tells her that she's wrong.

"Damn it."

She sighs, hanging her head as her fleeting hope of contacting her parents by email is promptly crushed. Again the feeling of claustrophobia comes in an overwhelming wave, and she's never hated the fact that she has a home more than she does right now. She's frustrated and angry at the Queen for her game, and nervous about the next time she finds herself facing Regina while in control of her guise. Thoughts of what the hateful Queen might be doing to _further_ the tension between them flicker unwantedly in the back of her mind, and she hopes the Mayor will understand when she finally gets a chance to explain herself.

 _You mean 'if' you get the chance..._

The idea seeps into her conscious thought ominously, and she freezes. Up until now, she supposes there has been a touch of fear- especially in the face of the Queen's threat of causing her any real injury- but it's still been hard to completely comprehend her predicament without a touch of simple bemusement. She recalls the way that the darker woman's teeth had sunken into the sharp point of her tongue to be coated in a slick and terrible scarlet film and suddenly everything seems horribly, frighteningly _real_. She's kept face when dealing with the Queen and challenged her more than once, and she supposes that deep down the thought of _losing_ this strange dance of wills hadn't really occurred to her.

Looking now at the greyed out bars at the top of the screen, and over to the window that trickles a single bead of moisture through a haze of condensation, it occurs to her in bright, warning red.

She's trapped.

Trapped with a madwoman who she knows from all accounts is easily bored when it comes to playing games.

Swallowing a hard dose of the truth as she wets lips so recently brushing against the Queen's, she closes her laptop glumly and shoves it back under the bed. In doing so, she dislodges everything else she has stowed out of sight- a method of 'cleaning' that has always suited her more than actually organising anything- and she swears irritably as several books and a pair of sneakers tumble from their precarious hidden tower and out onto the floor. Pushing them back, something else clunks down into view, and she stills, her heart quickening in her chest.

"Maybe..."

* * *

Making her way through the woods, the Queen watches thick mud dirty her boots. She supposes that the boots are actually Emma's so she can leave them in whatever state she likes, but she still finds the feeling of the wet dirt unpleasant and wrinkles her nose. Only, that _too_ is actually the blonde's, and it feels strange to her so she stops doing it. As a matter of fact, _everything_ about being in the Sheriff's body feels strange to her. She has masqueraded as another on numerous occasions, but this is certainly the most curious. The younger woman's body is firm- tight- and she notes that her heart rate remains more or less the same and her breathing barely changes as she climbs up the steep verge that leads to the abandoned carcass of the ship in the woods.

 _Interesting_.

Reaching out, she wraps pale fingers around a low branch to her right, and pushes experimentally. It takes quite some effort, but she is finally rewarded with a sharp crack as the bough breaks to reveal white splinters. She smiles, intrigued, although she wishes it were possible for her to feel the blonde's magic and not just her physical makeup. With her own at play to commit this cruel game, Emma's magic remains a secret to her, and her smile slowly fades as she finds herself bitter with the lack of satisfaction she feels in the face of this knowledge. There is something sensual- almost erotic- about the idea of sampling another's power, but for now she is stuck with the familiar warmth and hum of her own.

 _Nothing wrong with that... My own is refined and delicious._

She shakes herself free of any negativity as the fun of her current situation reverberates in each sure stride long legs make, and she slips her hands into the back pockets of tight jeans and squeezes with a smirk.

"You're late."

A voice interrupts her gleeful perversion, and she looks over to spy her lesser half stood waiting impatiently on the crest of the hill.

"I-... Sorry."

She forces out finally, not missing the way Regina regards her with a glimmer of unease, and supposing she should at least _attempt_ to role-play as the blonde. The word sits sourly on her tongue- the Sheriff's tongue- but it appears to do the trick, as weary disquiet gives way to a roll of pretty, dark eyes, and the Mayor turns around to stalk back towards the ship. As she does so, the Queen eyes the dull wool of the latter's coat with distaste, wondering when and _why_ in the hell everyone has seemingly started looking to Mary Margaret for fashion inspiration.

 _What on earth has become of you, dearest?_

Following her weaker self into the litter of debris surrounding the hulking frame of the ship, she watches as Regina begins leafing through an abandoned folder overflowing with papers. She purses her lips- another expression that feels wrong on the blonde's face- as the Mayor does so crouched down with the knees of her pants dangerously close to touching the dirt.

"You changed, then?"

Regina remarks breezily, and the Queen flashes sharp teeth in a smile as she replies lightly

"You seemed ever so slightly _uncomfortable_ with the way I was dressed before."

Dark eyes flicker up to meet her own for a moment, shadowed with something the Queen can't quite place, before the Mayor clears her throat and goes back to scanning the documents in her hands.

"Hardly... It just... Wasn't, you know, _you_."

"You don't think it suited me?"

The Queen probes, applying an awkward pull to soft lips to hide her smirk, and the brunette frowns as she looks up once more and shakes her head.

"I didn't say it didn't suit you... It... It was... It was fine... I've just never seen you wear anything like that before. And it's not exactly warm."

She finishes off finally, dropping her gaze resolutely back to meaningless scribbles as her cheeks blush a delicate pink. The Queen studies her intently, swallowing a rye chuckle. Her lesser half may have been pathetically boring earlier, but she'd certainly eluded to thinking the younger woman's dress- and what it struggled to hide- was quite a bit more than just 'fine'.

I _would know. I know better than_ anyone _how you look at her when you think no one else is watching. I just happen to_ accept _the pleasant warmth that comes with those stolen glances. I'm not so stubborn as to refuse to understand what that tightening low in my stomach means._

"Have you talked with the others? Do you think we might be safe with Hyde locked away?"

She asks in what she hopes is a casual fashion.

 _Fortunately,_ everything _sounds rather casual uttered from the Saviour's mouth._

"I'm not sure. I _want_ to think we are... I just..."

A sigh, before the brunette looks up earnestly, her eyes filled with complete trust as she regards the blonde stood over her.

"Emma, can I tell you something without you telling the others?"

"Of course."

The Queen replies immediately, and she supposes that this isn't really putting words in the Sheriff's mouth. She imagines Emma would have replied in a similar fashion.

"I keep thinking about that night on the roof... I tore out the worst part of myself and I _killed_ her; you saw me do it."

"Well, the Evil Queen _deserved_ it."

The Queen reminds without hesitation, and she curls pale hands into fists as the Mayor nods.

"Of course! I've never felt better! I don't think about that night because I _regret_ what I did, I think about it because I worry it was too _easy_. Do you know what I mean? When has it _ever_ been so simple for either of us to just... Catch a break?"

She laments, and the Queen frowns before moving swiftly into crisis aversion mode. Stalking over and placing her hand on the Mayor's shoulder, she smiles down at her with care to match that same pathetically earnest expression and comforts kindly

"We were _due_ one! Regina, I saw her crumble into dust just like you did. She's gone. I mean, what _other_ option is there?"

"None... I know. I know you're right. I've just had this strange feeling recently, and-"

"-Regina, stop. Come on. Everything's fine."

The Queen soothes, pulling the brunette to her feet so that the Mayor stands before her eye to eye. She rests her hand- Emma's hand- on the latter's arm gently, intensifying her gaze as Regina looks back at her seemingly unsure quite what to do.

"Things have never _been_ this good."

She continues, adding a suggestiveness to the blonde's voice that she can't help but enjoy the sound of herself.

 _No, things have never been this good; I'm running the show now. I'm running your town from behind the scenes, Madame Mayor, and you've just let me in on the wonderful fact that you're none the wiser. Cautious, maybe, and that is to be expected, but you_ believe _Emma, don't you, dearest? She's put to rest any concerns rotting away in that newly dull mind of yours. Things are all looking up, finally. I have your town in my palm, and your Saviour locked away where I can enjoy her. And now that your worries have been thwarted, I believe I might just take the opportunity to do just that..._

"Come on. What are we really hoping to _find_ out here anyway?"

She smiles, stepping back and enjoying the way the brunette swallows as she averts her own gaze which had been curiously blown.

"I wondered that _myself._ This was _your_ idea."

The Mayor sighs, falling into step beside the Queen as they make their way down the hill and out of the woods.

"Come over for a drink; it's cold and Henry was wanting to tell you about his evening with Violet. I've been treated to it at _least_ three times this morning, it seems only fair."

Regina smirks amiably as she glances over at Emma, and the Queen reciprocates her glance pensively before nodding.

"That sounds nice."


	16. Chapter 16

Following Regina into the mansion, the Queen takes in her surroundings with a quiet sigh as she removes the blonde's boots. The rooms lack the royal grandeur of her Palace, but she had always been quite fond of her Storybrooke home nonetheless. Besides, without her servantry and guard, the comparatively miniscule size of the house had been perfect for just herself and Henry. It seems for a moment as though nothing much has changed since she was last here, but then a coat hung on the stand by the door catches her eye. It is a soft mauve peacoat and she presumes it belongs to Mary Margaret. The Mayor follows the direction of her gaze and offers a small shrug.

"Your mother left it here the other day. If you're planning on stopping by to see your parents, take it with you, otherwise I'll drop it off later. There's a pair of Neal's mittens too, which I've put in the pocket."

Regina explains as she heads towards the kitchen, and the Queen stalks behind her with her eyes narrowed as she seethes.

 _Why would you let that traitor and her wretched spawn into my house?!_

"Emma?"

The brunette asks as she switches on the coffee machine and turns to face her guest. Her tone is coloured with a note of concern that bothers the Queen sourly.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

She replies, forcing a grin to light up the blonde's face. It is an expression that until more recently had rarely been seen by the Mayor, but it is one that seems to fit sharp features most naturally, and it appears to appease the brunette who turns around with a shrug.

"You looked... Upset."

Regina elaborates after a moment's thought, as what she'd _actually_ thought was that the blonde had looked angry.

Hateful.

She dismisses the notion as a trick of the eye, and pulls a saucepan from one of the drawers before fetching some milk from the fridge. She strikes up a topic of idle conversation as she does; so used to the Sheriff's company these days that she barely even thinks about the words spilling easily from her lips.

"What are you doing?"

The Queen interrupts with a frown, watching as the Mayor fills the pan with milk and leaves it to simmer on the stove. The brunette offers her a coy smirk as she pulls a tin of cocoa powder from the pantry and stirs it into the warming milk generously.

"Oh, don't act all confused! I saw your face the last time I made Henry hot chocolate and offered you coffee... Like an adult."

Scarlet lips stretch to expose a mocking smile and Queen forces the blonde's to display her teeth in a frozen grin. When Regina turns her back to stir the distasteful concoction warming in the pan, her face falls into an expression of loathing and she silently damns the blonde's despicable palate.

"Mom!"

A cheerful greeting comes from the doorway, and both women turn around to spy Henry, but it seems that in this instance he had primarily been directing his attention towards the blonde.

"Mom dragged you out of bed earlier then?"

He grins as he leans against the counter beside the Queen, and she regards him pensively before throwing the Mayor a rather sinful smirk causing the darker woman to look away hastily as she recalls tight black fabric and pale flesh.

"Oh, I was up and about."

The Queen replies breezily, and and she returns Henry's eyeroll with a more genuine smile of her own.

"Shall we go through into the drawing room?"

Regina asks, handing Henry a mug of hot chocolate before holding one out to the blonde. The Queen studies steaming chocolate with masked revulsion, which is only made worse when the boy tops it off with a mountain of cream and a dusting of cinammon.

"I don't know where you two put all that."

The Mayor sighs amiably as she leads them out and into the drawing room, and Henry laughs as the Queen thins her lips disdainfully behind them.

She takes a seat opposite the others, moving uncomfortably as the leather of the blonde's collar brushes her jaw.

"Sit up straight."

She frowns at Henry as he sags into the sofa like a broken doll, and he throws her a puzzled look, before doing as she says. Regina regards her with a raised brow, and the Queen bites her tongue as she realises that common sense evidently isn't something the others are used to hearing from the Saviour.

"How is it?"

The Mayor asks, gesturing towards the calorie-coma waiting in her mug, and she eyes the brunette's coffee jealously as she takes a sip. The cream coats her lip with smooth sweetness in a way she finds extraordinarily unfamiliar, but she meets the darker woman's gaze as she slowly licks herself clean and supposes that maybe this _isn't_ the worst situation after all. She reminds herself that she needs to tread carefully in front of Henry, but she has seen the blonde do unsavoury things with her cream enough times to know that a flirtatious flicker of her tongue is seen as a regular occurarce when it comes to Emma.

"Sweet."

She replies with a heated glance at Regina, and the darker woman licks her own lips- seemingly subconsciously- as she holds the blonde's cool stare for a moment.

"So, how was your evening with Violet?"

The Queen turns her attention to Henry, and the brunette blinks as she tears her own gaze away and frowns as it suddenly dawns on her that the boy had said he'd help out at the Diner. She interrupts to mention this, and he smiles and assures her they've changed their plans to go over after lunch before launching in to a play by play of his and Violet's time on Hook's boat the previous evening, before moving on to their adventures in babysitting his uncle.

 _Lord, have mercy._

"You should put a dab of brandy on his pacifier, it stops them _fussing_ so much."

The Queen advises as Henry explains why he'd been up so early this morning, and Regina frowns as she studies Emma pensively. Her own mother had used brandy to quieten her as an infant and had told her as much several times, as childish 'fussing' had been entirely out of Cora's spectrum of interests. She would find it curious however if it were a practice allowed and discussed with children in the care system, and she's never heard Emma mention anything of the sort before.

 _Yes, well, I suppose a couple of nights watching over a screaming infant will have one reaching for the bottle._

Smirking, she exchanges a glance with the blonde, although Emma seems to ignore her knowing smile and simply sips at her drink. A moment later, the blonde stills as though startled by something, before she places her mug down on the coffe table between them and excuses herself distractedly.

"I'm just going to go to the bathroom."

"Sure..."

Regina replies, cocking her head as she watches the younger woman walk from the room, before shrugging and asking Henry what his plans are for the evening.

Upstairs, the Queen stalks past the door to the guest bathroom, and continues down the hall towards Henry's room. Once outside, she can hear a faint crackling sound which she places immediately, and her eyes flash with dark rage as she lets herself in and snatches the Walkie from the boy's bedside table.

"Henry? Are you there?... Kid, come on, please be around!"

Emma's voice is tinny but the desperation to her tone is pretty clear, and the Queen shakes her head with a slow smile as she thinks of several creative ways she might choose to punish the sly bitch later.

"Henry?... Crap... "

Desperation bleeds into defeat, and the Queen closes her eyes for a moment as she switches the dry apathy she's favoured since leaving the house for her son's voice.

"Emma? Are you okay?"

She injects false concern into her tone and rolls her eyes at the sound of scrabbling on the other end of the line."

"Henry!"

* * *

"Henry!"

Emma exclaims with a mixture of disbelief and elation, and she falls back onto her bed with her arm slung over her eyes as she begins a rapid explanation of her current predicament.

"Henry, listen, I need help. The Evil Queen is still alive! She didn't die when Regina crushed her heart. I don't know how or why, but that's not the issue right now! She's got me stuck in my house! I can't _leave_ , I can't call anyone, and I can't use my magic. Please, you need to go and get your mom, or my parents or _someone_! She's _dangerous_ , kid! She-"

"-Emma, Emma, slow down!"

The Queen urges in her son's voice, biting back laughter as the pitiful hope in the Saviour's words only makes her imminent doom that much more delicious.

"What do you _mean_ she has you stuck in the house?"

"I don't _know_ how she's done it, but any time I try to do anything to leave, bad things happen. Regina came over this morning though, so I think other people can _enter_ , it's just that I can't _leave_!"

"Okay, don't worry! I'll get mom, and everything will be alright."

"Yes! Thanks! Go get her, now! But be careful, kid. I don't know where she is right now, and she is _not_ someone you want to mess with."

Emma warns, removing her arm from her eyes and looking up at the handcuffs dangling from her headboard with a sense of foreboding.

"Don't worry, mom, we'll get you out of there."

* * *

"Don't worry, mom, we'll get you out of there."

The Queen promises sweetly, and she takes her finger off the receiver and places the walkie carefully back on the nightstand before turning to leave. Pausing, she studies herself in the small mirror that hangs on the back of Henry's door; blonde hair falling over tight leather the color of fresh blood.

"You've just asked for things to get _interesting_ , Swan."

She murmurs, watching the Sheriff's lips as they move. Swallowing, she lets herself out and returns to the drawing room; smiling at the others before taking her leave.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** _I struggled with this one a little as I'd kind of messed up how the last chapter leads into this one in terms of what I had planned to do! Oops! That said... I finally have an actual plan (of sorts) for this fic! I was enjoying just going with whatever came about and experimenting, but was getting frustrated with the way the tone of this story wasn't contrasting from my other in-progress fics as much as I had originally wanted it to. My initial hope for this fic was to create a much darker/ kinkier dynamic, and I think some of that was getting lost. So, I had a long sit and think (and drink) about this story, and finally came up with some ideas that I think will work and lend to the twisted darkness/ rivalry that I had really wanted to come out of all this. So yes, buckle up, and things should get interesting very soon. _

_I hope this chapter reads well, and I hope the transition is alright. Reviews would be lovely :)_

* * *

Sitting at the top of the stairs with her head in her hands, Emma flinches as metal scrapes inside of metal down below. She holds her breath and looks up, her body rigid with apprehension as a key turns in the lock of the front door. The stairs form an L shape, keeping her partially hidden, and she leans forwards wearily to peek out between the banisters to survey the hallway. The door opens slowly, with a seemingly similar movement of caution, and she watches intently as a smart heel crosses the threshold before being followed by its owner.

"Emma?"

Regina calls in a hushed voice, closing the door behind her and looking around nervously.

"Emma, where are you?"

Little more than a harsh whisper, and the blonde swallows, feeling overwhelmingly relieved and yet not quite daring to move.

"Miss Swan!?"

The brunette hisses, glancing at the vacant sofas in the living room before stalking towards the kitchen. As she does so, she murmurs beneath her breath; her words quiet, but the blonde catches them nonetheless.

"Oh, god, please be alright..."

And that breaks the spell the younger woman had been frozen under; those words a kind relief after being stuck in the presence of the Queen. Pushing herself up, she descends the stairs slowly- cautiously- and follows the Mayor into the kitchen.

"Regina..."

She greets warily, and the darker woman jumps in surprise before whirling around to face her.

"Don't _do_ that!"

The brunette scolds angrily, before walking over and assessing her shrewdly.

"You _look_ alright. _Are_ you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Emma nods with a shaky smile; her mind going back to the handcuffs and knife in her bedroom.

"I just couldn't get out of here."

She elaborates, and the brunette nods as she continues to keep her attention on their surroundings; her stance indicative of one on high alert.

"Yes, Henry said."

"I couldn't call or email or anything. I didn't know what else to _do_... But I found the walkie and it seemed like it was worth a shot."

"It was a good idea. You're lucky it _worked_."

Regina smiles thinly, and the younger woman nods in relieved agreement.

"Don't I know it?! We need to get out of here, Regina, I don't know when she'll be back. I have no clue what she had planned after she... She... Well, she kind of made herself seem like _me_. She met you out at the ship I think...?"

Emma asks awkwardly, and the brunette raises a brow in surprise.

"That wasn't _you_?"

"No... No that wasn't me."

The blonde shakes her head, and the brunette studies her with a disconcerted frown as she strives to process this alarming information.

"I can't believe she's _back_."

She sighs unhappily, before looking back up at the blonde and stating quietly

"I really thought I'd sorted everything out this time. I thought it would finally be the _end_ of all this."

"It's not _your_ fault!"

Emma consoles firmly, and she places a hand on the darker woman's arm and squeezes lightly.

"Regina, it's not your fault that this happened, we just need to find a way to get _rid_ of her!"

"You say that like it's _easy_."

The brunette laments, dark eyes lowering to where the blonde's hand rests on her sleeve. Emma follows the direction of her gaze, and swallows awkwardly as she pulls away slowly.

"... You know it _also_ wasn't me this morning... In the dress and everything."

She confides uncomfortably, and Regina looks up at her with a low exhalation of realisation.

"Oh. Of course... Of course that wasn't you."

The brunette replies stiffly, and Emma pulls a face as a heavy tension sits between them threatening a storm.

"I... I'm sorry."

She appeals awkwardly, and Regina shakes her head as she pulls herself together briskly, almost scoffing in her attempt to appear unfazed.

"What for? It was just a bit of an odd encounter. No harm done."

"... Okay."

The younger woman offers, but she sounds unconvinced as she feels there really is quite a lot more that needs to be said on the matter. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she waits for Regina to say something else, but the brunette simply looks away with hot blood colouring her cheeks.

"Of _course_ it wasn't you."

Regina repeats beneath her breath as she walks towards the door, and Emma hesitates as she watches the distinct change in the Mayor's composure; the brunette drawn into herself with her head down.

"Hey, look... It's... It's alright. It was just weird."

The blonde assures uncomfortably, and she offers an awkward smile when the brunette turns to regard her with a troubled look.

"We should get out of here."

Regina forces out eventually, and Emma nods as she walks over and holds out her hand to show the darker woman her restraint.

"You have no _idea_ how much I second that notion. That woman is _vile_... Sorry."

"She is."

Regina shakes her head as she agrees quietly, and she takes a hold of the younger woman's forearm to study the cuff encircling her wrist.

"You can take it off, right?"

The blonde asks hopefully, and the Mayor runs her finger over cool steel before looking up into green eyes with a guarded expression.

"... You _saw_ what happened earlier, didn't you...? You saw how I... How I was around you when I thought it was _you_ looking and acting that way?"

"...Yes."

Emma admits uncomfortably, before looking back down at the cuff on her wrist expectantly.

"I'm such a fool."

The brunette mutters bitterly, and the blonde frowns as she appeases gently

"No you're not. It... It's fine. Things have been... Things have been a bit weird recently."

"... You've felt that way, too?"

The Mayor asks quietly, and the younger woman shrugs awkwardly as she motions down to her wrist.

"I... I don't know. But come on, we need to get out of here. This isn't the time to-"

"-You feel something, too?"

Regina interrupts, her grip tightening on the blonde's arm as she studies her intently.

"Regina, we don't have time to _do_ this right now! You have to take it-"

"- _Please_!... Emma, I need to know..."

The brunette insists, and the Sheriff looks up at her warily, opening her mouth to argue that they have no business discussing anything so overwhelmingly disconcerting while at the potential mercy of a psychopath, but the words dry up in her throat. There is a glitter of such pained confusion and uncertainty in the darker woman's eyes that she finds herself struck by a deep wave of empathy. Looking away with a disbelieving shake of her head, she admits almost in a whisper

"Yes... And maybe what I feel is just confused and lost, but I feel... Something."

The words feel like shards of glass leaving her lips, each excruciatingly painful to allow to escape, and she realises that her legs are shaking a little. The last time she'd noticed such a thing had been when waiting to speak to the doctor when she'd been in jail, and it strikes her as absurd that she should show such fear in the face of admitting a very carefully buried truth, when she had been able to face the wrath of the Evil Queen with commendable poise.

"I-"

But she stills, eyes widening and the color running from her face as full lips stretch into a slow smile, and the Mayor begins to laugh.

"... Regina..."

"Oh, this is just too rich..."

The brunette cries elatedly, her body shaking with her mirth as she regards the stunned blonde through tears of amused disdain.

"How wonderfully touching and _pitiful_! How-"

"-Regina!"

Emma shouts, her face a picture of horror and rage mixed with just a touch of helpless confusion, and the darker woman sighs dramatically as she lets go of the blonde's arm and makes a elegant gesture with her hand; turning respectable makeup dark and seductive, and expensive wool to tight, sinful leather.

"Are you really so idiotic that you'd think I'd let you go so _easily_?!"

The Queen goads cruelly, before taking a step back with a snarl when her cheek flares with pain as the younger woman lashes out with a choked sound of fury.

"Bitch!"

She screams angrily, thrusting out her hand and sending the blonde hurtling backwards into the wall. The younger woman stumbles to her knees with a pained grunt, before pushing herself up and regarding the brunette with pure venom.

"Says you..."

She hisses; her voice shaking with rage. It is an anger born from the greatest form of betrayal; she has always been one to keep everything close to her chest, and the Queen's despicable ploy to garner her recent admission has the Sheriff feeling nauseous with hate. When she had been a child, she had been prone to a terrible temper in the face of feeling backed up against a proverbial wall, and as an adult, that same fury has remained only slightly tamed. It had evolved and increased tenfold when she'd been living with the darkness of the dagger, but there had been a great number of reasons to struggle desperately to keep that black anger on its leash. Now, she feels the first splinters of that terrifying wrath begin to dig beneath her skin, and she squares up to the Queen defiantly as the latter closes in on her with her teeth bared in a hateful smile.

"You are going to _pay_ for that..."

The darker woman confides in a tone that suggests she's very much looking forward to doling out retribution, and she pushes the blonde back up against the wall forcefully so that they stand nose to nose.

"I can't believe you _admitted_ it..."

She smirks, and Emma recoils with a deadly glitter in her eyes, before shoving the brunette back roughly.

"It's just a matter of time before we figure out a way to kill you..."

She bites back, and the Queen laughs richly; finding the Saviour's defensive avoidance delicious.

"I suggest you mind your manners, dear, that kind of talk is hardly that of a hospitable host."

The brunette teases, and she moves back in on the younger woman, this time pushing her hips into the blonde's and leaning into her heavily; scarlet lips brushing the Sheriff's cheek.

"Fuck you."

Emma growls, shoving the Queen away once again, and this time she regrets it with a yelp as the brunette catches a hold of her wrist and throws her into the hallway with unnatural force.

"Gladly."

The darker woman smiles dangerously, and the blonde scrambles back to her feet and backs away with her hands up combatively.

"Stop now... Stop now or I _swear_ you'll regret it!"

She warns, and she knows that she makes an empty threat, but right now that dark rage is all consuming, and she barely _feels_ the trickle of blood running down her chin from where she's bitten her tongue on impact.

"Oh, please..."

The Queen scoffs, stalking closer and backing the blonde up against the door to the basement.

"This is everything you _want_... You said so yourself. You _want_ me, Sheriff, you-"

"-No! I-"

But the younger woman's words are lost in her anger- simply becoming a growl- as she lunges for the Queen, only to be pushed back with both power and flesh. A wet snarl sounds in her ear as her fury is matched by depraved intent, and the brunette slams into her once again to send both of them crashing through splintered wood and tumbling down into the darkness that festers below the blonde's house.

"...Fuck. Ow."

Emma pants, clutching her hand to her stomach with a pained wince as blood trickles from several new places.

"You..."

A voice boiling with rage seethes from the shadows, and the Queen stalks over with a pronounced limp, her eyes like black diamonds in the darkness, and her cheek sporting a bloody scrape from her fall.

"How _dare_ you?!"

She screams as she falls down over the blonde, her hands shaking in her anger.

"I should have killed you the moment I had a _chance_! Look at what you've _done_ , you sly, despicable bitch! I will have your pirate's _head_ for this! But not before I relieve him of every other extremity first! I will wash away this vile encounter with his blood, and then I will go after your parents."

She promises, her eyes narrow and her teeth bared as she can't recall the last time she has felt so enraged at another's insolence. Emma looks up at her with her breathing audible as she simmers, her hands curled into tight fists. Her sweater has ridden up to expose the small of her back to the damp earth of the floor, and she can feel the dark power and the wrath of this hateful place coursing beneath her- into her- like a living thing.

"I will start with your brother. Their darling son. The child that you could never hope to be for them. I will cut his throat while those traitors watch; relishing the sound of their begging turning into wails of sorrow."

The Queen continues, moving slowly over the blonde and lowering herself down; straddling the younger woman as she moves her hands to the latter's throat.

Green eyes flicker to the mound of stone from which she had pulled the sword, before travelling the dank walls of the cavelike room and drinking in the deep gouges and destruction that had been the result of her darkness.

Of the blackness that still lies within her beneath the surface.

 _But not nearly as deeply as I thought..._

"I will leave them unharmed long enough to allow the truth the fully sink in- the pain to take root- and then I will commence with the deed that I should have committed long ago. My one true wish, Saviour; to ruin your family. To destroy their happiness if it is the _last_ thing I do."

The Queen promises hatefully- her grip tightening to leave nail marks down the vulnerable column of the blonde's throat- before leaning down ready to brush her lips against Emma's.

"Any last words?"

She smirks, and when she is met by silence, she gives the younger woman her kiss; revelling in victory before sharp teeth sink into the soft velvet of her tongue, and everything goes black.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** _Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter :D They were really nice! Hopefully this will be headed in a direction that you all like- I'm certainly excited! As always, thanks for reading, and please, please, please comment!_

* * *

"Do you want any more coffee, mom?"

Henry asks, popping his head around the door to the drawing room where the Mayor sits staring into the fire pensively.

"No thank you, dear."

She replies distractedly, and the boy shrugs with a smile and turns to take his leave.

"Ok, cool. Violet's coming over in a little while, if that's alright?"

"Is she staying for dinner?"

Regina asks, looking up with a frown; struggling to tear herself away from her thoughts.

"I'm not sure. Is it ok if she does?"

"Of course. There's some pasta salad in the fridge if you get hungry before then, and I'll put something together around seven."

"Awesome. Is Emma coming over later do you know?"

Henry asks; the blonde stopping by more often in the hopes of being fed and entertained. It is something she has made a careful habit to alternate between the Mayor and her parents, and the brunette smirks to herself as she wonders what Emma would say if she only knew that both herself and Snow had cottoned onto this little scheme ages ago.

"Not that I know of, but I'll text her before I start prepping."

She smiles, and Henry reciprocates sunnily before closing the door behind him. In his absence, her brow furrows and she turns back to the flames.

 _There's something not quite right here..._

No. Something about her interactions with Emma today have been entirely _off_ , and she has been unable to shake the blonde from her mind for the best part of the afternoon. This in itself isn't entirely unheard of, but most of the time when her thoughts circle back on Emma it's because they've either fallen out or the younger woman has said or done something stupid. Today, her thoughts aren't returning to idiotic words, but rather black fabric, pale skin and blatant insinuation. There has been a delicate balance between them for a while now, and she had believed that they had each privately agreed to keep it that way. She isn't entirely _sure_ what the blonde feels when in a room alone with her, but she has seen enough behind loaded looks to know that it's _something_. For a while, before the blonde had been struck with the darkness of the dagger, when she and Robin had been together, she had almost felt as though it was _Emma_ who seemed to look at her a little strangely from time to time. Nowadays though, since Robin's passing, she supposes there is a part of her psyche that compensates for his loss by allowing the insanity of her unusual infatuation with the woman she had once despised some room to grow. She has kept any _progression_ based on odd thoughts as strictly forbidden however, even on the occasions when they have shared a couple of bottles of wine of an evening. She has done so partly because there is a large part of her that refuses to acknowledge those thoughts that she fears she shouldn't have, but also partly because it would go against that silent agreement that seems to sit between them whenever they are alone like a living, breathing thing.

What Emma had done this morning- the way she'd acted and presented herself- had been a _breech_ of that agreement. It had been well over a _meticulously_ honed line.

 _Well, perhaps it was about_ time _for one of us to make that move..._

Pursed lips and clenched fists as she tells herself to stop immediately with such thoughts.

 _It was nothing. Just Miss Swan being rather more peculiar than usual and thus unsettling me..._

Sure. She'll pretend to believe that.

But it's not _just_ the way the blonde had come on strong to her this morning. A _lot_ of it is that, but not _all_ of it. It's also the way Emma had behaved the rest of the day, as everything _about_ the younger woman had just seemed... Not quite right.

She recalls thinking that the Sheriff had looked almost _angry_ earlier, and frowns.

 _What is going on..._

"...Henry?"

She calls out, and she hears the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs before the door opens and he peers in at her.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Bright eyes roll, but he humours her patiently and agrees

"Alright, _yes_. What's up?"

"Has Emma said anything to you in the last couple of days? Anything that seemed a little... Odd?"

"Emma says _lots_ of things that are odd."

He grins, and she offers him a smirk in return but it doesn't feel wholehearted. Shaking her head, she elaborates

"I mean something that might point to her being upset or annoyed."

"Don't think so," Henry frowns as he strives to think, "I mean, I think she was annoyed about Hook wanting to rearrange stuff in the house, but they argue about that kind of thing all the time. In the end, he buys her pizza, and she lets it go."

Another grin, before the boy regards her more seriously

"How come you're worried about Emma today, mom? Do you know something?"

"No. I don't suppose I have any real reason... She just seemed in a strange mood and I was wondering if she'd said anything to you."

"Nothing that I can think of. I guess she seemed a bit... I dunno... _Lofty_ earlier- at least for Emma- but you know how she can sometimes be when she's in a funk."

"Yes, I suppose so..."

The Mayor nods, unconvinced.

"Mom, I wouldn't worry, she-"

He breaks off as he's interrupted by a knock at the front door, and smiles apologetically before leaving to go and let Violet in. The brunette runs a finger thoughtfully over her bottom lip as she considers Henry's words.

 _Lofty. She seemed lofty earlier._

Yes, she had. Lofty is _one_ word for it. She'd seemed rather cold. Proper. Fussy... All words that she knows well, as they are words that had once been used to describe herself.

Frowning, she pushes herself from the sofa and stalks over to the phone on her desk. She rings the Sheriff's cell but is demoted to voicemail after a few seconds. She considers leaving a message, but doesn't really know what to say.

 _Hello, Emma, are you alright? Only you seemed to be acting rather strange earlier, and I wondered if something was going on with you?_

She doesn't think it's the sort of message the blonde would appreciate; loathing both interference and being asked to explain herself. It also might call to light that which they have never spoken about, and she doesn't think voicemail is the best method with which to open Pandora's box. Placing the phone back in its cradle, she considers her options uncertainly, before walking out of the room and stopping in on Henry and Violet in the kitchen.

"Henry, I'm heading out for a little while, would you just check on the fire in a bit?"

"Sure, we can go sit in the other room if you're done in there."

He smiles, and she nods gratefully and offers Violet an amiable hello.

"Where are you off to, mom?"

"To see Emma about something, I won't be long."

She assures as she leaves, hoping that she's right and that she's not about to open up a can of worms by potentially acknowledging what happened this morning.

 _It'll be fine. Hook's probably there anyway, and she'll just have forgotten her phone in her jacket pocket like always._

* * *

As it turns out, Hook _isn't_ at the blonde's house, as she spies him on her way over chatting to Will Scarlett outside of Granny's.

 _Nobody_ appears to be at the blonde's house.

Stepping back after her knocking on the front door has gone ignored, she assesses the grand building thoughtfully with her hands on her hips. A couple of the lights are on inside, and she knows that it would be unlike Emma to leave them burning if she weren't around. There are a _lot_ of things that the blonde is prone to forgetting or not bothering to do, but conserving energy isn't one of those things. It is something she'd once pointed out a while back, and Emma had given her a curt response about minding her own business which she had adhered to swiftly. After all, the blonde only usually replies in such a way when something has touched a nerve, and Regina had quickly come to the realisation that there would have been a time when electricity, gas, and any other amenities had been a luxury in the younger woman's life, and ones she will have been excruciatingly conscious about. That presumption had made her feel somewhat uncomfortable at the time- as things concerning the curse's affect on the blonde's life often do- but now, that presumed knowledge makes her rather uneasy.

 _She's probably just in the shower or something! It's nothing!_

"No. Because then she wouldn't have the hallway light on..."

The brunette mutters to herself, and she hesitates for a moment longer before reaching out and trying the door.

It's open.

Letting herself in, she looks around curiously, and almost immediately notices the damage to the basement door.

"... Emma?"

She calls out with tangible apprehension, but she is met by an eery silence.

"Miss Swan? Are you down there?"

She raises her voice, aware that it wavers a little. Still, she is given no reply, and she stalks slowly towards the splintered wood and touches it nervously. There is a large crack that runs down the centre of the door, and the wood around the handle juts out in broken slivers as though it has exploded. Those sharp splinters all face the same way however, and upon closer inspection she surmises that the door looks almost kicked or broken in.

 _Well, she does have a_ habit _of doing that..._

"Emma!"

She shouts warily, before squaring her shoulders and pulling the fractured wood open.

"What on earth have you been _doing_?!"

She grumbles, beginning to get a little impatient. A feeling that only lasts for as long as it takes before her mind throws her the image of the blonde lying at the bottom of the stairs with her head cracked open.

"Em-"

But she stills, descending far enough into the gloom of the basement to make out the last couple of steps and thus deducing there to be nobody lying in front of them, injured or otherwise.

Looking around, she comes to the conclusion that there's nobody here at _all_.

"Then what the hell have you been-"

But again, she trails off, this time with a cold finger or dread stroking her spine.

"What..."

Taking a few hesitant steps further into the cave-like room, she crouches down and touches the curious item shining back at her from the shadows.

"Why... What are you doing with _this_?!"

Picking up the cold metal cuff, she holds it out to better catch the light filtering in from upstairs; her eyes wide and troubled as she studies the deep crack that has broken the enchanted metal clean open, rendering it useless.

"... What...?"

* * *

Blinking open heavy lashes, the Queen looks up at the ceiling with a groan of both pain and confusion. She lies sprawled out on the flagstone floor with her coat fanned out around her.

 _Wait_...

Frowning, she pushes herself up so that she sits, staring around a room she had once known so well. On the wall, several heavily framed portraits glare back at her, each baring dark eyes and hair. Getting up, she walks hesitantly over to the picture in the middle, her lips parted in shock as she studies the oil-paint likeness of her mother.

"What...?"

Staggering back, she whirls around to drink in the rest of the room; the heavy throws and pillows exactly as she remembers them.

How she'd left them.

Only...

No. The intrinsically detailed nightstands she'd had carved by the woodsman are shrouded in a heavy layer of dust. It cloaks the ornaments carefull placed on top, and those on the dresser. It gives the windows a hazy, unkempt quality, and carpets the floor; untouched but for where her footprints track lightly through it.

"How can this be?

She whispers, staring around her Palace bedchambers, and all of the memories within.

"How can this-"

But she stills, frozen, as somewhere down one of the vast hallways, a door bangs suddenly shut.

"Saviour..."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** _Sorry for the wait! Things have been a bit busy! But should be back to normal now :) Thanks for sticking with me, and hopefully this should lead into a whole new game for these two :D Reviews would be lovely!_

* * *

" _Saviour_..."

The Queen frowns, stalking towards her chamber door and standing hesitantly with her hand resting against the heavy wood. She supposes she's being presumptive in assuming that it's the idiot blonde wandering time-forgotten halls, but somehow she knows that it must be. What she _doesn't_ know is _how_.

 _How could this be?_

It couldn't and _shouldn't_ be possible. One minute they had been in the Saviour's dank and doomed basement, and the next...

 _Is this because I kissed her?_

It can't be. She's kissed the blonde several times now- each time delighting in the younger woman's discomfort- and nothing has come of it save for a delicious ache between her legs.

"This is impossible."

She breathes, contrary to what her surroundings tell her, and she pushes open the door and steps out into the hallway in search of the blonde before she can get herself into mischief.

It is an eery feeling, walking through the deserted grandure of her old home. She had thought about her Winter Palace often while stuck in the mundane constraints of Storybrooke, and stalking the halls brings back a whirlwind of memories. Out here, the thick dust shrouds the paintings and the opulent statues that stand as sentinels between the light that filters in through the windows. The glass has been fractured in places by storms that will have gone unseen by any but the creatures that have found shelter in the walls and the gardens of the place. It litters the floor- glittering ominously in the grey light of a pale sun- in sharp slivers that jut upwards like beckoning fingers. Through the middle of this destruction, a single track of footprints disturbs the dust and debries; leading away from her room and off into the shadows.

Following this curious trail, the Queen pushes open the heavy doors at the end of the hall to enter the ballroom. Here, glass has been strewn around by the wind also, and the heavy velvet of the curtains her mother had insisted be re-dyed to match her mood on several occasions carry long swatches of mildew. What had once acted as a skylight has left the room ravaged by the elements, and recent rains have left the floor wet beneath her feet and have washed away the dust that might have hinted at the blonde's movements from here.

"Where are you, you little wretch?"

She hisses beneath her breath, looking around the place irritably as there is something unsavoury in the idea that she doesn't currently play the huntress in their warped little game.

"It will do you no good hiding."

She mutters, and this much she knows is true. She is thrown by the fact that they have somehow ended up in this strange and unforeseen situation, but in a way, it has simply served to lend her even more of an upper hand. Here, she not only overshadows the blonde with her power and her vengeance, but she is also blessed with an acute knowledge of their surroundings; something which Emma lacks. If the younger woman wishes to play a sly game of cat and mouse, the Queen can think of no better place for it than in the grandure of her reign; what remains of her best years.

Looking at each of the three doors that line the far wall in turn, she takes her time to analyse the scene from the blonde's perspective; devouring another's weaknesses and wills something which she is well versed in. The door on the left leads to the servant's quarters and the kitchens. The one on the right leads into a parlour, or 'entertaining room'. When she had been younger and betrothed to Leopold, that room had been used for his better and more important guests; a smaller yet resplendent secret in which jesters jested and mimes mimed at the whims of their King. Following his death and her descent into darker fancies, the room had been used more often for her own private pleasures; a sanctuary of bare flesh and kneeling subordinates each desperate to please their cruel Queen.

The door in the middle leads to the Palace's imposing enterance hall, and it is towards this door she eventually stalks. She knows her prey well, and she knows that the blonde is nothing if not slippery and elusive. She has every certainty that Emma will have opted for freedom over slinking the halls of forgotten time, despite knowing nothing but what little she has read of the world beyond the gates. True, she had come through into this realm along with the Pirate for what had sounded like a brief stint of stupidity and chaos, but that had been some alternate reality where the Palace and its surroundings had been in their prime. Now, all those of importance are long gone, and the land here has been left at the mercy of the wild. There are creatures out there that the Queen imagines will have made their way closer without the threat of her guard to keep them at bay, and she doubts the Saviour would last too long against any of them.

 _She'll have risked it, though. She'll have ignored what should be good sense, and made a run for it as she is so adept at doing._

Yes, she is sure of it, but when she thinks back on the footsteps tracked through the dust in the hallway, she muses that they hadn't seemed to portray the wide gait of one running or even _jogging_ ; rather the steady, even pattern of one walking without a care.

"...Or sneaking."

She tells herself, and she finds she is beginning to feel just a little uneasy as the Saviour remains unaccounted for.

Stalking through into the grand enterance hall, she casts her eyes up towards sweeping staircases that had once echoed with the chatter and fear of her servantry and guard. The skeleton of a small bird- possibly a starling- lies beneath the chandelier, and she supposes that it must have entered through one of the broken windows and not been smart enough to find its way out. Looking down at fragile bones, she muses that the Saviour might soon share a similar fate, and as she makes her way to the doors which lead out into the grounds, she crunches the creature's tiny ribcage beneath her heel.

"Saviour?"

She calls out, seeing no sense in trying to keep her whereabouts a secret, as Emma poses her no threat. Her voice is carried by the wind as she descends the Palace steps; dark eyes falling on misshapen greenery which has begun to rot and die off in places. At one time, those hulking bushes had been clipped into the shapes of animals; elephants, tigers and wolves. Now, after thirty years left to their own devices, they are an eyesore; bloated and wrong.

Ominous.

Casting her gaze to the colossal gates that barricade the gardens from the rest of the land, she sees that they remain shut, and she doubts if Emma will have been able to slip through them without any aid to push them open. There is the slim possibility that the blonde will have tried to scale the walls- she wouldn't put such an attempt past her- but the thick ivy that had once grown up the pitted stone has succumbed to either the weather or whatever has killed off her mother's rose garden, and there's nothing left substantial enough to hold the weight of an adult; even a slight one.

"Miss Swan?"

She shouts, beginning to feel the first tendrils of anger rather than just agitation; coming to the conclusion that the younger woman remains trapped in the walls of the grounds with her, and not in the mood to play hide and seek when there are so many _other_ games they could be playing.

So many ways the Sheriff has already asked for punishment.

Coming to a stop as she stands at the top of the steps leading to the lower gardens, she looks around with a hunter's sight. Her gaze comes to rest on a large hedge that had once been sculpted into a depiction of several kneeling handmaidens, as it proposes the greatest option for one wishing to hide. Running her tongue pensively over her bottom lip, she raises her hand and strikes with a smirk.

Foliage and branches explode outwards, along with a shower of feathers as some poor creature must have been resting amongst the leaves. No sign of the Saviour once the destruction has settled and the dust has cleared, and she grits her teeth angrily as she seethes.

"Was that really necessary?"

A voice interrupts her rage, and she freezes; recognising that dry tone instantly.

"Emma..."

She greets, turning towards the sound of the younger woman's voice with her teeth bared in a terrible grin.

A grin that dies on her lips as she searches out the source; nothing behind her but the castle doors.

"Regina."

Comes that same, bored growl, and she whirls around with her hands ready to teach the little bitch a lesson.

The blonde stands amongst the destruction of the hedge; untouched, and no longer... Well, no longer precisely 'blonde'.

Honey gold now tumbles a curious white-silver, and the Saviour's outfit is as black as her expression.

"... How?"

"How... I don't know. But this doesn't really seem like the time to be asking questions."

Emma confides lightly, and when dark brows furrow in response, the younger woman allows a slow smile to creep across lips the color of clotted blood; at the same time beautiful and terrible.

"What do you mean?"

The Queen demands; pulling herself up to her full height and glowering down on the Saviour who stands below her.

"What would _you_ propose I do?"

She sneers, not about to let a curious change of appearance trick the blonde into thinking that she has any place dictating their curious back and forth.

"What would you have me do?"

She repeats; her expression wrought with suggestion and malice.

"Run."

Emma smiles simply, the word soft like silk as it leaves her lips, while raising her hand; allowing the Queen a moment to comprehend that the game has changed- no silver sparkle at her wrist as the sun struggles through the clouds behind her- before putting her newfound freedom to use.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** _Sorry for the wait :) Hope you enjoy! Comments would be lovely!_

* * *

When the first blast of the blonde's power hits the Queen, the darker woman is unprepared for its ferocity and she cries out as her shoulder blades make rough contact with the heavy doors of the castle. She grits her teeth as she feels horribly winded, and glowers at her assailant angrily as she very much preferred it when things had been the other way around, and it had been herself throwing _Emma_ around the halls of her house.

"What do you think you're _doing_?!"

She snarls, her voice raw with fury, and she is unsurprised when she is unable to push herself from the unforgiving wood, as she can feel the telling electricity of the blonde's magic rushing over her like wandering, invisible hands; stroking and feeling with such intimacy it's obscene. She attempts to thwart that intoxicating power, but her own dark force is momentarily weakened as she struggles to come to terms with her current situation.

Eyes glittering, she watches as Emma lowers her hands and stalks through the destruction caused to the topiary and makes her way slowly up the steps until they stand face to face. As with the younger woman's previous musings that the Queen has refined her style, the brunette now ponders the vast differences between the woman stood in front of her and the shared haze of memories she has of Regina interacting with the blonde when she'd become the Dark One. That version of the Saviour who had cast a dark cloud of anxiety over the town for a short while had been a crude caricature, just as so many before her have been at the mercy of the book and the curse. There is a degree of pantomime that seems to colour whatever prophecy has been written on those pages, and while it is only something she'd been able to appreciate after many years living in a world she had once considered drab and tasteless, it had never been more apparent to her- to Regina- then when dealing with the Swan woman wearing a mask of makeup and anger. Now, she recognises the iron and the danger in the younger woman's magic- she recognises the darkness- but long hair hangs tousled and attractive in its curious silver, and black leather has been buckled and laced in a way not dissimilar to her own ensemble, although where she has accented tastefully with velvet and lace, the younger woman has maintained her more militant style.

"Let me go."

The Queen orders, striving to break through the blonde's invisible grip, but the younger woman is powerful and keeps her pinned against the doors at her mercy.

"Why? Are you _uncomfortable_?"

Emma asks silkily, and the Queen suffers a wave of confusion as everything about this role reversal has her lusting for blood, but there is something captivating in the blonde's husky tone that causes her to shiver. She thinks back to the moments leading up to this strange turn of events, and how the sharp teeth now grinning at her had been bared in hate, as the Savior had choked out her furious mantra of 'fuck you!'. She thinks of how she had been ready to take the idiot blonde up on her offer, and how she might relish making the bitch thrash and scream for her before eventually continuing with her grand scheme of vengeance. She had taken great _pleasure_ in knowing Emma had been uncomfortable, and her lips form a tight line as she recognises the current teasing note to the younger woman's words. She can't quite tell if the blonde's sultry, suggestive tone is an act of retribution, or whether the sinful promise in her voice is a genuine threat- _or promise_ \- and this leaves her feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Saviour, you better think about who it is you're dealing with..."

She warns venomously, and the younger woman raises a brow as she leans in so that they're nose to nose; the freshness of her shampoo the Mayor had once come to know so well replaced by the curiously warm scent of leather.

"The Evil Queen."

Emma states mockingly, her teeth flashing in a wry grin that has the darker woman swallowing. It is not an expression anyone had ever dared offer her once she'd taken the throne, but it is one she recalls receiving from the Sheriff a couple of times when trapped in her former prison, as the blonde and the Mayor had shared their time together. On each occasion, their bickering had reached a heated and undeniably flirtatious level. Regina would say something cutting and snide to the blonde to garner a reaction, and usually the result would be a sigh or the juvenile flash of the Sheriff's middle finger, but every now and then, Emma would snipe back, and when she did, she'd flash her teeth as she flashes them now; daring, bating and playing with fire.

 _She must have known... Must_ know _what she looks like when she does that._

"The Evil Queen."

She agrees with soft fury, but the younger woman's teeth remain sharp and goading.

 _My mother. My mother would smile like that, also._

"I take it you don't _like_ being pushed and shoved around against your will?"

Emma demands with a flash of her own cold rage; her eyes and lips dark and distracting to the Queen, as the harsh tones she recalls from Storybrooke have been replaced with gothic hues unlike any worn back in this better land, and thoroughly intriguing for it. Striving once again to lunge at the blonde, the darker woman manages little more than a twitch of her fingers as she remains pinned against the door; her power and the Saviour's thrumming tangibly between the two of them.

"You're new at this, dear, _remember_ that. You may have the upper hand for this brief moment, but trust me when I promise that the punishment will be _severe_."

"So you've been telling me all this time, and yet _now_ look how we stand, Your Majesty. You had me as yours to rights, and you fucked up... That knowledge has got to be stinging worse than your tailbone right now."

The blonde breathes, and as a small frown graces elegant features, green eyes glitter and the Queen yelps as she's pulled forwards just a little before being thrown pointedly back against the door; a finger of agony stroking down her back.

"I told you I would win."

Emma seethes, and the brunette glowers at her, before shaking her head; a slow smile finding scarlet lips.

"No. You were referring to the Saviour when you spoke those words. You're no _Saviour_ , not now. Not with the darkness you've let back in. The Saviour might have been able to best me, but _you_... You're willing to play the game."

"You don't _know_ what I'm willing to do."

"I _do_ , though. You're willing to do what you could _never_ do back in Storybrooke; you're willing to break the rules."

"I break the rules all the time!"

"No, you break _my_ rules- _Regina's_ rules- and any pertaining to magic you can't understand. But you play by a _different_ set of rules, and you play by them strictly. You, Emma, the Savior, Snow's brat, you have a _goodness_ that's expected of you and you've come to embrace that. The others, they pretend that you don't have a past; that you pulled yourself through a broken and difficult childhood without a blemish on your soul. They call you the Hope, the Light, the Good, and you _let_ them. Oh, I know, you resisted the _titles_ at first, but you were all too willing to allow them to name you those things so as to avoid the mantle of what you were before Henry came to find you."

"You know _nothing_ about what I was like..."

"I know that you were living a life where the only person you had to please was yourself. You came to Storybrooke and you allowed the others to need you and colour you their hero. You accepted the silent guidelines laid out by a thousand stories of the bold and noble protagonist. You play by a moral code that those idiot cretins all believe... But underneath it all, you're angry. Underneath it all, you recall a time when there were no rules. When there were no friends and family counting on you to do them right and to wear the mask of a soul untarnished by rage and darker fancies...

Oh, you want to best me now just as much as you did back in Storybrooke, but the _game_ has changed, Swan, and you know it. This isn't just about protecting Snow anymore. I toyed with you and you didn't like it. Or worse... Maybe you _did_?"

"I-"

"-You're no longer looking to simply stop me or defeat me. I can feel it; I can feel it in your magic as you keep me at your momentary mercy. One's power reveals so much; it's sublimely _intimate_."

The Queen confides, licking her lips as she speaks, and watching the younger woman's eyes as the latter seems to be searching her face for the truth. She finds great pleasure in the look of dubiety that finds cool green; Emma seemingly surprised at just how naked her magic leaves her.

"You _want_ to play, Miss Swan. You want to take a break from maintaining that fine line of doing the right thing. I humiliated you back in that old house you've come to call your own, and you want to _punish_ me for it... All those times you lied to Regina, telling her that vengeance and retaliation weren't the answer. All those times you scolded her for giving in to darker wishes... I can feel _your_ wishes now, Saviour. Your desires. I can hear them as though you were whispering them in my ear, and our dear Mayor doesn't have _anything_ on you. You're tired of playing everyone's good girl, and this has nothing to do with stopping me from hurting your family. This is a whole _new_ game now..."

"... Then let's play it."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** _I'm back! Hope you enjoy :) I had a few reviews asking about how Emma got out of the cuff/ how they've ended up in the enchanted forest. I will go into this more as the fic goes on- atm, neither one of them is all that sure how this has come to be, so it will be something they strive to figure out- but the main idea for the moment was that the darkness left inside of Emma, magnified by the darkness left in the earth of the basement, allowed that part of her to break out and come to the surface in the face of the Queen pushing her as far as she could go and baiting it out of her. The cuff and how they ended up where they are will be explained as this goes on :) Comments would be awesome!_

* * *

 _"...Then let's play it."_

The blonde invites, and as the words leave her lips, thunder claps up ahead as purple storm clouds crowd over the castle; ominous and bruised. A second later, and rain begins to fall, the droplets heavy and fast, and bringing with them an icy chill. The Queen wrinkles her nose and casts an angry look up at the sky, but her irritation seems not to be shared by her opponent who ignores the downpour that drenches her silver curls a foreboding shade of iron; streaming from her hair and down the leather of her corset it rivulets.

Taking another step towards the brunette, Emma watches curiously as the water glistens on soft skin; noting the way it trickles over delicate clavicles and down into the promising valley of the darker woman's cleavage.

"Make your move, then."

The Queen challenges, feeling a small shift in the younger woman's magic as it continues to bind her against the door, and catching the direction of Emma's attention with great intrigue. She tries to counteract that electric power with a surge of her own, but with the blonde holding her at her mercy, it does little more than send the Sheriff taking a couple of steps back and shivering slightly. The way she does so is almost as though she _relishes_ the threat of the darker woman's magic, and the brunette swallows as she is unsure just what to make of this new facet of their game. It exhilarates her that the Saviour should agree to play with her, but with that thrill comes an acknowledgment of danger she is not well versed with.

"Fine."

Emma agrees, and her eyes flash at a nearby roar of thunder, before she leans in and takes each of the brunette's wrists in her hands.

"What are you-"

But the darker woman's words get lost in the void of the blonde's magic as Emma closes her eyes and takes them elsewhere.

* * *

"Can I get you anything?"

The young woman behind the counter asks, and Regina shakes her head without replying as she remains sat deep in thought. Eventually, Granny comes shuffling up to her; the old cook a little more persistent.

"Coffee's fresh, Madame Mayor."

"Fine, coffee then... No, wait. Make it a cappuccino."

The brunette sighs, but as she watches she supposes she needn't have bothered as Granny already makes her way to the machine; her order having remained the same for over thirty years now.

"Something troubling you?"

The widow asks, shooting her a sharp glance over her glasses, and Regina shakes her head as she taps her nails lightly on the spotlessly clean counter.

"I believe only bartenders are obliged to engage in small talk, and even _then_ it's an act I've never much approved of."

"I'm not asking out of obligation, I'm asking because before Pippi came and asked after you, you'd been sat staring into space for the last ten minutes."

Granny points out, and the brunette thins her lips sourly at what she takes as an accusation, before asking irritably

"Since when did Pippi start working here?"

"Since she got fired from the clothes-mart for stealing hosiery... And since I needed another pair of hands on deck in light of our new visitors."

"You should talk Miss Lucas into coming back."

Regina sighs, and the old cook raises a brow as she places the Mayor's drink in front of her.

"I never took you to be a fan of Ruby's."

"I wasn't... But she was familiar at least. Everything's _changing_ around here."

The brunette confides pensively, and Granny pauses as she considers offering up a response, but the darker woman has turned her attention down to her coffee and seems not to have anything else to say. Frowning, she simply slides across a packet of sugar that she knows the Mayor won't use before padding off to see to a young couple helping themselves to a booth in the corner.

Watching her go, Regina sips at her drink as she tries to decide what to do. The broken cuff she'd found in the Sheriff's basement remains hidden in the pocket of her jacket, seeming to burn a hole into the fabric as its very existence in this realm troubles her greatly. She is unable to fathom any reason why Emma should have come into possession of such a thing. She supposes it's possible that Rumple might have had another band similar to the one used by her mother and on Zelena in his shop, but she can't really put together a set of circumstances that would lead to him giving it to Emma. She is certain that Zelena _herself_ won't have offered the blonde the cuff as, while the bad blood between them has more or less been left in the past, her sister remains on the fence when it comes to the Saviour for the most part; finding her to be pleasant but rather dull. She is just as certain the Zelena won't have _used_ the cuff against Emma, as her sister is well aware that the Charmings- _especially_ the blonde- are off limits if the two of them wish to remain in each others good books.

 _Which would leave only myself that might have the knowledge or the means to obtain such a thing..._

Frowning, she fingers the sugar sachet she has left unopened dubiously, not sure what to make of what is shaping up to be a rather unusual day.

 _Unusual that you should find a powerful artefact in Miss Swan's basement..._

 _... Her basement to which the door appeared to have been kicked in, with the woman herself nowhere to be found._

 _Not to mention that I have never before seen such a powerful relic rendered useless... Disenchanted, yes, but not split in two..._

She supposes that there must be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this, but she can't help but feel a little concerned. Dipping her hand into her pocket, she runs her finger over the jagged split in cool metal; almost certain she feels the telling residue of the younger woman's magic.

 _Like a fingerprint._

 _A_ dark _fingerprint._

This last thought comes to her before she can shut it out, and her brow furrows deeper.

"Uh oh, keep looking like that and you'll get wrinkles."

A pleasant voice warns from her left, and she glances over irritably to be met with Snow, Charming and baby Neal in his father's arms.

"Never."

She replies loftily, nodding when her long ago nemeses gestures hopefully at the stool next to her.

"Well, if you _do_ get them, it's Emma's fault for starting up time here again. I told her the same the other day when I thought I'd found a grey hair. Turns out it was just paint from the nursery."

Snow grins, and David chuckles as he adds conspiringly

"It was also _green_."

"Rather more rare."

Regina replies with a tight smile, feeling a little drained, but the younger woman seems not to notice as she beckons over Granny and orders them some drinks. Offering the cuff in her pocket one last squeeze, the Mayor pulls herself together and asks in what she hopes is a casual tone

"Have either of you seen Emma at all?"

"No, not since I ran into the two of you at breakfast the other day. She's probably with Hook."

Snow smiles, and the brunette nods and agrees that this is probably true, while inwardly doubting it. She supposes it's _possible_ that she might have somehow missed the Sheriff on the way to her house, but she doubts it, and having spied the pirate in the company of Will Scarlett, she doesn't deem it to be all that likely that Emma will have chosen to join the two of them on whatever misdeeds they might be getting up to.

 _She's not with Hook and she's not at home... She's also not... Not_ herself _today._

A flash of pale flesh and scant black fabric and Regina purses her lips and pulls a couple of dollars out and lays them beneath her mug.

"I better get home."

She apologises, and she agrees distractedly to Snow's offer of coffee the following morning. She is beginning to feel a little uneasy about how things are looking for Emma, but she isn't sure whether bringing this up with the blonde's parents is the best idea.

At least not yet.

After all, the Sheriff is a grown woman, and might not appreciate her raising the alarm due to being unable to track her down for a couple of hours, busted door or not.

 _It wouldn't be the_ first _door that woman's kicked in..._

And what _would_ she tell Snow, anyway? That she's a little concerned about the way her daughter has been acting of late as she's never really flirted so _openly_ before?!

No, the younger woman's curious behaviour is certainly not something she's about to bring up, and she decides that she needs to do a little more sleuthing before worrying the Charmings unnecessarily. If she's wrong about all this and sends the blonde's parents into panic mode, she knows she'll never hear the end of it.

 _What's the worst she could do?_

A small smile at this, which she promptly wipes from her face as she stalks for the door; shoving any inappropriate intrigue veiling what had been meant as a derogatory question firmly back into the dark corners of her mind.

Opening the door out into the cold, she makes her way down the Diner steps while pulling her jacket firmly closed against the early evening chill. Reaching into her pocket to check for any messages from Henry, she finds that she's received two texts since she last checked her phone and comes to a halt as she opens them up. The first is from Henry, informing her that he and Violet have gone to help her father with his horses before heading home. The second is from Gold, and is characteristically cryptic.

 _I believe we may need to discuss a few things. Come by tomorrow before noon._

Frowning, she resigns herself to her fate and closes the messages, hesitating for a moment as she considers trying to get a hold of Emma. Checking the last text received from the blonde's number, she tries to gage if there's anything that appears off to her, but comes up empty.

 _Just the regular, useless trivia..._

Yes, but her brow furrows as she suddenly recalls that she'd received another, more recent message from the younger woman from another number.

Lily's number.

That residual friendship she's never quite been able to understand.

Opening it now, she finds no signs of concern in the younger woman's wording, but when she looks back up, she is surprised to spy Lily herself leant against one of the lamp posts a little further down the street; bathed in the pale tungsten glow that has just flickered to life. Weighing up her options, she looks down at the message in her hand before running her fingers over the cuff in her pocket uncertainly.

 _Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask..._

No, she can see no harm in asking the rather surly young woman if she's seen or heard from her friend. She is also confident that if Lily _hasn't_ , she is unlikely to panic as the Charmings might should she suggest that this is starting to seem a little odd. She knows that the two will sometimes share a drink down at the Rabbit Hole or sat outside the Sheriff's Station, and so she harbours some hope that Lily might know of a few places Emma might be found that she hasn't been let in on.

She tells herself she's not jealous.

She tells herself that she's only looking out for the blonde's best interests, and that Emma will in no way mock or resent her sharing her concerns.

 _She'll just have to deal with it... After all, what's the worst she can do?_

* * *

Blinking against the sudden darkness in which she finds herself, the Queen breathes in the rustic smell of packed earth before coming to the realisation that the blonde no longer holds her captive with her power. Pulling free of the younger woman's loose grip on her wrists, her victory is short-lived as she becomes aware of the bars that separate them.

"What have you...?"

She spits venomously, taking a couple of steps back as she drinks in her surroundings in disbelief.

Emma smirks at her through the bars; wrapping her fingers around old, rusted iron as she waits for the brunette to get her head back in the game.

"How?!"

The Queen demands, slowly coming to the dreadful realisation that she recognises her confines from her own rule, despite never having been on _this_ side of them.

 _Rumplestiltskin's cell... But how... How would she..._

Emma smile is wicked as she explains casually

"When we came through the book, you threw me down in the dungeons, and that's always weighed on my mind as a bit of a sore subject... of course, I could never really blame _Regina_ for that, because it wasn't really _her_ that did it. It was _you._ Oh, sure, it was some weird alternate reality _version_ of you, but it was the Queen. The _Queen_ that humiliated me and had her men drag me down here. The Queen who stripped me bare and put me in rags... It's time to pay for that, Your Majesty... Time for you to see how _you_ like it..."

"I-"

"-As for why I brought us _here_...

I know what this place is...

I know who this cell was built for... I've been stuck down here once before, and I know that while you're locked away in there, _you_ can't touch me...

Pity for you that it doesn't work both ways."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** _We'll just see how that all goes next chapter ;) Reviews would be lovely :)_

* * *

" _Pity for you that it doesn't work both ways."_

Emma grins, although there is little humour in the expression, and her eyes are hard. The Queen seethes behind bars pitted with rust and age, but she knows better than to attempt obliterating them with magic and doesn't want to look a fool in front of the blonde. Instead, she hisses threateningly that the younger woman had better enjoy what limited time she has left of her good health, before letting out a surprised cry when she is forced gracelessly to her knees. Her eyes flash with pure confusion- the position so far from any she's prone to taking- before she pushes herself back up; shaking with rage. She throws her hands out with a snarl, but nothing happens.

"You see?"

The blonde asks in a curiously patient tone, and she shrugs when she is rewarded no response. The Queen stares at her; slowly understanding that she has fallen to the mercy of her own doing. As the younger woman had spat at her back in the gardens; she'd had her dead to rights. She'd had her cornered and captured and under control. Somewhere along the line, she's made a terrible error, and she knows now that her mistake had been trusting that the younger woman lacked the neccesary components to beat her. She'd been complacent. Drinking in the results of her flawed judgement, she finally understands that the decks have been reshuffled, and that anything she might usually count on when facing the Saviour is currently off the table. The younger woman stands tall with her hands on her hips, svelte limbs clad in tight, forbidding textures of black that juxtapose jarringly with her hair.

 _Jarring, but it no way unattractive._

No. She's not entirely _sure_ what Emma had been going for when she'd first let in the darkness back in Storybrooke, but it had given her great cause to laugh at the blonde's expense despite doing everything in her power- Regina's power- to help her. Now, she finds that she is unable to find much reason to laugh. There is nothing amusing in the darkness of the younger woman's makeup, nor the tight bind of soft leather, and the brunette swallows as one of her shared memories with the Mayor comes hazily to mind. It had been late one evening following her stint as a double agent; going between the Charmings and the women who had once shared her dark fancies. She'd been sat in the Station with Emma: she at the desk and the Sheriff sprawled lazily out on a cot in one of the cells. The cell door had been wide open and on the desk there had been a bottle of wine recently rendered empty. The way the blonde had been lying had caused her sweater to ride up considerably, but Emma had seemed not to notice as she'd simply played idly with one of her long curls while smirking over towards her companion. The tone of their conversation had been how it often wound up when just the two of them; dangerously suggestive. She'd responded to the Sheriff's latest statement with a smile and amusing rebuttal, all the while trying to decide if the flesh on display was an accident or an offering.

All the while struggling, yet ultimately _succeeding_ to toe the line.

They'd been discussing her long ago companions. Discussing the complete absurdity of their appearance and chosen way of portraying themselves. Emma's words had been tinged with that teasing lilt that sometimes made it hard not to accept glaringly obvious bait, and she'd snapped back irritably when thrown in with the others in the blonde's assessment of how preposterous some of the outfits worn by those in the book have been. She had responded coldly that she doubted the younger woman would fair any _better_ given how she often chose to dress herself in their current world- cordially ignoring soft wool and tight denim riding low and high in all the right places- and the blonde had turned onto her side, propped up on her elbow, and grinned at her.

" _I don't know about that. I reckon I could rock the evil look... And I wouldn't rely on weird hairstyles and random feathers and tassels to do it either; not mentioning any names. Your issue is you guys all looked to each_ other _for advice and you all_ sucked _at fashion. I mean_ really _sucked. Think how much more interesting things might have been if the Evil Queen had watched the Underworld series..._ I'd _certainly have been for it."_

 _"...You forced me to endure one of those movies a while ago; it was ridiculous."_

 _"Sure, I know that. We're not talking about the_ storyline _here though, Madame Mayor. We're talking how to make evil look_ good _. Suit yourself if you prefer costume jewellery and velvet, but me? I'm going down the vampish leather route if I ever play for the other team."_

 _"... You surprise me, dear."_

Regina had eventually scoffed sarcastically, feeling just as taken aback and flustered as the Queen does now.

She will allow the blonde one thing; she has a tendency to keep her word.

"So what's your plan? What's the meaning of this move?"

She demands angrily; hating this. Hating the complete role reversal from how this had all been planned in her head. Emma remains momentarily silent and leans back against the wall, her posture hatefully casual and confident. The Queen glowers at her accordingly, earning herself a smile.

"You know... You really fucked up earlier. What you did with the whole dress scenario this morning was pretty low, but pretending to be Regina and asking what you asked me? _That_ was fucked up."

"Perhaps... Or perhaps see it as an act of kindness; pulling the truth from you to air it out and let it breathe."

The brunette suggests silkily, and green eyes narrow as Emma barks at her furiously

"It has no _place_ out in the open!"

And she is aware in the silence that follows that she had actually meant to growl words of strict denial. Meeting the Queen's dark stare as she imagines the brunette is aware of this also, she raises her jaw; daring the darker woman to challenge her on it.

"Well, if I'm being honest, it _wasn't_ out of any kindness... But the response was _certainly_ delicious."

The Queen muses, relaxing a little as she stands with her fingers wrapped around the bars; still unhappy with her position in all of this, but understanding that she still has a little ammunition left in the face of the blonde's clear discomfort at her admission.

"Are you feeling guilty or ashamed?"

She pushes, watching the younger woman's expression intently as she goads her.

She guesses she's known Emma too long to find herself surprised when pale features offer her nothing to feast on; remaining carefully stoic.

 _Still, it's always so_ disappointing _!_

"Neither."

The blonde replies finally, pushing back with her own understanding of their situation.

"If I'd acted on it, then _maybe_ I would have felt guilty, but as you said; I'm not always as flawless as the others like to think... Ashamed? I'm ashamed of the way I let you _trick_ me like you did, but nothing more... Let's not forget that this is in no way a one-sided deal, Your Majesty. I admitted that I'm sometimes confused, which I would say is more _irritating_ than it is shameful. I _also_ know you feel the same way, if not _more_ intensely. You say you wanted to use me to get to my mother, yet all of your games had a suggestive undertone she would never have been let in on. Your threat was carnal, and had _nothing_ to do with what you claimed your plan entailed. I'm sure you found a great deal of enjoyment in making me uncomfortable, but I don't believe for a _second_ that was the _only_ thing getting you off."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"You said yourself, Regina-"

"- _Regina_ let herself be ruled by the same idiotic constraints as you did and is irrelevant. To _me_ , you were- are- a _game_. Yes, I played it with a goal in mind, else it was sure to become boring, but that's _all_. You can't _win_ this, Saviour. You can't beat me at this. _You_ remain unsettled by the truth so recently admitted, while I don't suffer that same affliction, as I have made abundantly clear."

"... Who says I'm unsettled?"

Emma challenges quietly, and dark brows furrow as the Queen searches for a way to respond.

"You...-"

"-I just told you; I feel no shame. What I _feel_ is anger at you for the way you treated me. I feel angry at you for forcing me to say something that had no business being said. I have no qualms about _acting_ on my feelings, I just resent being made to express them. I figured you might _know_ that by now."

"I-"

" _You're_ the one unsettled by this turn of events, not me."

"That's-"

"-I told you; I will _always_ beat you."

"...That remains to be seen."

"If it helps you to pretend that's so, then be my guest. While on the topic though, you were reminding me up in the gardens how being free of the responsibilities of Storybrooke I might like to play a little less by the book. Granted, I know you were simply trying to wind me up, but then you've always had such a penchant for being your own worst enemy. Now, back home I tried where possible to be the bigger person and not seek revenge for revenge's sake. I was the _Saviour_ , after all... Unfortunately for you, I'm not feeling quite so... 'good'. Like you said, before Henry came along, things were very different. If someone fucked me over, I'd bite back; I'd let them know that it wasn't a good idea to be doing that, and I wasn't constrained to ways my _kid_ would approve of, either... You've had your fun the last couple of days, but it ends now. Me taking that kind of _shit_ from you ends now. If you were still Regina, I might leave it at that, but there isn't a single reason I can think of not take you up on your suggestion that I play the game. That I punish you."

"Punish me?"

The Queen scoffs, but inside she feels a flicker of doubt. The blonde's voice is raspy with anger, and she's taken a few steps forwards so that she stands just out of arms reach; her stance combative and proud.

"I told you I resented the way the Queen threw me down in the dungeons, just as _you've_ done to so many others in _this_ reality. You stripped me bare down there, and you laughed."

"Did I? Was there something I missed in the shower?"

"You _laughed_ because I was begging you not to. I guess I should have _known_ how futile that was and how it was only adding to your fun, but I _knew_ you. I knew _Regina_ , and it freaked me out, so I tried to appeal to some _shred_ of decency in you for lack of any other option. You laughed at me. You laughed at me then and you've been laughing at me since ambushing me in the graveyard. Do you know how much I hate that? It's one of the _worst_ things you can do to a person; it's _humiliating_... I'll guess humiliation doesn't come around all too often for a Queen."

Emma muses dangerously, and dark eyes glitter back feverishly from behind enchanted bars; the brunette tense and alert as she senses the younger woman is about to play her hand.

Walking slowly up to the bars, the blonde folds her arms over her chest and orders quietly

"Strip."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** _Uh oh... :p I think I said before that I'm not putting warnings on this fic as I explained in the description that it would be of a slightly rougher/ cat and mouse style. I don't think anything written yet really warrants a warning, but just to remind anyone less fond of a little cruel fun that there will be parts of this where either party is in a bit of a bind. That out the way, I hope you enjoy. Reviews would be awesome :)_

* * *

" _Strip_."

Silence follows the blonde's order as the Queen glowers at her dangerously through the bars. She is furious. Livid. Not since enduring the wrath of her mother, long ago when she had still been weak and prone to failure, has she felt as uncomfortable as she does now. It is not a look she wears well. She has no qualms with her body, quite the opposite, but what she simply _can_ 't abide is being ordered around.

Especially by the daughter of her sworn enemy.

Especially by Emma Swan.

Narrowing her eyes, she raises her jaw defiantly, seething with hate as cool green glitters back at her wickedly. She knows that Regina had often found herself somewhat intrigued by the Saviour's eyes, even before she had found herself in favour of the woman herself. The blonde's face is often schizophrenic; she can be both greatly expressive and completely shut down. Her eyes remain forever cool however, and the Mayor had long since discerned this was not just down to colour but rather a calm- _disturbingly_ calm- warning. Even when creased with laughter or shimmering with tears, the blonde's eyes retain one very simple- very _calm_ \- message: don't fuck with me.

 _No. It's not_ just _that_ _. Not when she looks at Regina these days. Not when she looks at you_.

No.

 _I_ dare _you to fuck with me._

Yes, that's it, and it's so tempting to take her up on her offer.

"Are you sure you want to play this game?"

She breathes, adopting her own cool expression of disdain. It's a long shot, and she isn't wholly surprised when her cold challenge earns her a smile, but this response does nothing to aliviate her mood.

 _Bitch_.

"You know, it's funny, Your Majesty... For all your bullshit about winning this little game and your delusions of superiority, I would have thought you'd have a better hand to play than to stall. Maybe I overestimated you."

Emma sighs, injecting a purposely bored dose of disappointment into her tone that garners her a glare of pure contempt.

"You have no _idea_ what I'm capable of."

The Queen hisses, and the blonde pulls a face very similar to the one she will offer Henry when the kid suggests something especially unlikely, before shaking her head.

"I think it's maybe time to quit with that particular line, Your Highness, given how this has all played out."

She flashes a sly, commiserating smile and the brunette shows her teeth.

"Your mother showed a similar brand of ignorant cockiness, and look where it got _her_."

"My _mother_ lives with her husband and child in a very nice converted flat where the rent has remained the same for thirty years. I'd say she's doing just fine."

"She spent twenty-eight years a slave to my demand."

"True... Until _I_ came along."

"You-"

"-Which brings us back to the matter at hand, and the fact that you stand on that side of the bars while I stand on this side, so I would think it wise- less _embarrassing_ , even!- if you would can the whole high and mighty superior act and just do as you've been told."

"Make me."

The Queen challenges, striving to keep any emotion from showing on her face. She finds the younger woman's mannerisms unsettling. Where Snow had been smug whenever she'd held the upper hand for a short time, Emma seems rather more clinical. It is clear that she's enjoying this current turn of events, but she has kept the fact hidden from her expression for the most part. Her crude order has a lot to do with playing her hand, but the twist of the knife is coloured with retribution as well as simple desire to win the game, and this makes her a dangerous opponent in the brunette's eyes. Snow had been unhappy with her but smug for the most part, and had served more as an annoyance than a threat. Emma is angry yet collected, and her mind will happily go to dark places where her mother's had not.

 _Her_ mother _also never threatened me bound so deliciously in leather._

She swallows as the blonde stalks another step closer to the bars; remaining locked in the Saviour's forbidding stare as she keeps her head high and a sinful smile painting her lips.

"I'll ask you again. Strip."

The younger woman repeats, almost casually, although nothing in her eyes speaks of any tolerance should the brunette disobey.

" _Make_ me."

The darker woman reiterates venomously, in no way about to break down and give the idiot woman what she wants. She glowers at her captor through the bars before her eyes widen and her fists tighten around rusted iron. For a moment, the pleasing bind of her corset tightens cruelly, causing a pained gasp from her lungs, and then a swift slice of power ripples down beneath her coat; slicing thick ribbons cleanly in two.

" _Ah_!"

It's a choked noise of surprise that escapes her mouth before she can help it, and the blonde touches the tip of her tounge lightly to her top lip as she cocks her head to observe her specimen.

"This would go much more smoothly if you'd listen to me."

Emma sighs, and the Queen's lip curls into a snarl as she can feel thick fabric now hanging loose and useless against her slim frame. She notes with some internal irritation that her stomach feels tight with excitement against ruined garments despite her fury at being treated with such disrespect.

"You're going to regret this."

She warns, already picturing just _some_ of the ways she might punish the blonde. Emma bites her lip in response in a parody of nervousness before raising a brow and once more adopting a dry smile.

"So you keep saying... But, as you seemed so intent on getting to know things about me, I'll give you one for free. I've been behind bars, as you well know. I've been behind them when you had me falsely incarcerated, and I've been behind them when I agreed to go along with a fucked up plan that looking back was doomed to fail. Your little town holding cells have _nothing_ on Phoenix... Women who are cooped up together against their will can get a little moody, as you might imagine. It's just not cohesive to everyone staying in best spirits. As such, stuff goes down that just... _Ugh_ , I mean it can _really_ mess with your day, Your Majesty... Do you want to know how many people _I've_ warned will regret their actions? Do you want to know how much _good_ it did me while stuck on your current side of the bars? I can let you guess if you like?"

Silence as the Queen seethes, but the younger woman seems undeterred as she pushes her hair back and opens out her palms.

"It did _no_ good, no matter how surely I meant it. Do you want to know why? Because it's a power play. Power breeds obedience but it also breeds fear. Right now, you have nothing, you can do _nothing_ to me. Right now all that threatening bullshit is completely empty. It's laughable... See if _you_ like how that feels."

Emma finishes angrily, and the brunette shifts her weight uncomfortably as she can't remember the last time someone spoke to her the way the blonde does now. Searching for a response, she comes up empty, and she watches with deep loathing tinged with something headier, _lustier_ , as the younger woman once more moves her hands to her hips to study her cooly.

"The next time you make me help you do as I say, I'll cut deeper."

The blonde warns, and dark eyes glitter, before the Queen appropriates a smile- purposely seductive and free from any hint of discomfort- and shucks off the thick velvet of her coat. She finds some solace in the fact that she spies the younger woman's throat ripple as she swallows. Keeping Emma's gaze firmly locked with her own, she plucks away the ruined remnants of her corset and allows them to fall to the floor.

"No need to get _nasty_."

She scolds quietly, her heart beating fast and her sex clenching as she allows cool green to study her intimately. She is aware that Emma strives not to show any immediate reaction, but she hasn't missed the way the blonde had blinked a couple of times before regaining her icy facade, and she cocks her hip salaciously in response.

"Feel better?"

She asks wickedly, and finally the younger woman adopts her own smile as she reasons with absurd sweetness

"I told you to _strip_ , not flash me. You've not won any game here, Your Highness."

"Eager to see the rest?"

"I'd just like you to do as I've asked."

The blonde counters back, and while she detests being ordered around in such a way, the Queen has to admit to herself that she's in some ways glad that the younger woman's darkness has come out to play. It makes this all much more interesting, if a little precarious, but after thirty years trapped inside a progressively mundane prison, she's all for things getting a little dangerous.

"Is it what you imagined?"

She asks as she begins working the fastenings of tight riding pants, and she looks up questioningly when Emma fails to respond. She is met with an interesting sight; the blonde's lashes casting shadow as she watches the darker woman's movements with her lids at half-mast. Smirking, the Queen straightens up and tosses her hair back as she pushes down the tight fabric to reveal her fully, calling the younger woman out sharply.

"Saviour!"

She prompts, and the blonde's eyes snap open as Emma meets her knowing grin with a thinning of her lips.

"Well?"

"I can't say I ever imagined it this way."

The younger woman states coldly, and the Queen laughs quietly as she steps out of the fabric pooled at her ankles and once more wraps her hands around the bars.

"But you _have_ imagined it?"

She muses, shaking her head as the blonde opts for silence.

"Come now, don't get _shy_ ; you'll ruin the vibe."

She teases, and Emma's eyes flicker with irritation as she snaps back

"Smug words given how _you_ initially resisted."

"Don't deflect... Tell me, what _is_ it you imagine when you're lying in bed next to the pirate? If you say it's never been me, I'll call you a liar."

"Fine. Then I'm a liar."

"Oh, Emma, as you have me here, won't you at _least_ play the game?! I-"

"-I've never thought about _you_ in that way... Sometimes, I guess I would think about how certain situations between myself and Regina might have... Gone differently."

The blonde shares carefully, and when she catches the smug superiority on the brunette's face, she plays her at her own game and elaborates without coaxing

"I always figured she'd be angry with me if I ever tried anything like what I somtimes pictured in my head. She never seemed like the type to like it a rough, which is a shame... She's pretty good at it when I let my imagination run wild."

"... Who would be getting rough with whom?"

The Queen asks, her eyes pure darkness as her pupils are blown out; drinking in the blonde as she admits to her sins.

"...There was more than _one_ scenario."

Emma replies with a small smile; knowing that for now, she's winning the game. She aims to keep it that way, although it's hard not to find herself slightly flustered as her attention drops now and again to appreciate the darker woman's svelte form in its entirety.

 _Think of her as the Queen. Don't start thinking of her as Regina, or this is all going to get messy._

A nervous voice speaks up in her head, and she remembers how it had been before, back when she'd first accepted the curse of the dagger. It had been that same private war in her mind. Her conscious would speak up, but its voice would be little more than a whisper as the darkness would push it out and render it meaningless. At the time she'd given the analogy a lot of weight, particularly after coming back from the brink of blackness, as it served to make her feel more comfortable with her actions. Now though, she is beginning to accept that the idea of her being the Dark One exists only as far as she will let it. She has control- lots of it- over herself, and if she wanted to play this whole scene on the safe side, she could.

She just doesn't _want_ to.

 _No, but you're doing this because the bitch derseves it and it's proving to be rather interesting... Regina is not the same, and you would do well to remember that._

No. She knows. But without the elaborate garments that had spoken of the Evil Queen rather than her friend, it's a lot harder to differentiate the two, and as she stares the brunette down cooly following her suggestive admission, she recalls several of the scenarios to which she refers in which Regina had been just as bare as the Queen is now.

 _Not that you ever allowed yourself to fully go_ through _with those thoughts..._

No, she hadn't, and the darker woman's goading about lying with a busy head next to Hook stings as it's entirely accurate. On more than one occasion she can recall staring up at the ceiling once the pirate had fallen asleep, her mind wandering dangerously as her thoughts remained turned to sex. She'd allow the images in her head to get so far as the Mayor's office, the cells in the Station, the alley behind the Rabbit Hole. Allow them to get to the point where she might just lean in and and taste her, before swiftly pushing them away with her throat rippling sheepishly.

 _Those were the nights when you'd wake the next day irritated and hard to be around. You've never worn confusion well... Not that you'd quite accepted that's what it was._

She hadn't. It had been the Queen posing as Regina that had finally forced her to do that, and her eyes narrow now as she studies the darker woman pensively.

She's winning the game, and she wants to make sure the Queen knows it.

"What about you? I never asked after your little trick with the mirrors. At the time, I guess I was surprised and angry, but now I find myself just a little bit curious... What were you thinking watching me?"

"...That I'd in essence bought very disappointing tickets to a highly anticipated show...You shower as you do most things; entirely lacking in any elegance or intrigue."

"I'm so sorry."

The blonde sighs, striving to hold back a grin, as while she remains face to face with the Queen, there is something utterly 'Regina' in the darker woman's grievance.

 _Don't go there!_

"I could have thought of _several_ ways it might have been more _fun_."

The darker woman continues.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed."

"Like what?"

Emma prompts, stalking closer to the bars so that she stands almost nose to nose with the brunette; her eyes bright as she challenges the darker woman to up her game.

"It would have been interesting to see you, ah, relieve some tension. After all, I'd worked so _hard_ getting you all riled up."

The Queen smirks, and the blonde raises her jaw, standing tall as she looks the darker woman up and down, before casting her gaze down at herself clad in tight black leather that fits alarmingly well.

"And now? What do you think _now_? Now that you're not in control, has the... hmm... _game_ lost its appeal?"

"Oh, I'd still play."

The brunette confides huskily, and she's fairly certain that she's eating right out of the younger woman's palm, but it seems pointless denying the truth. That, and one thing she _has_ learnt while at the mercy of the Mayor's ever growing conscious is that arrogance can be a weakness. Ordinarily it has been herself- Regina- to have learned this the hard way when dealing with the blonde, but now she dares to bet that she has Emma right where she wants her.

The Saviour smiles; pure malice and sin.

The Queen cocks her head, daring the younger woman to make a move.

"You like what you see, don't you, dear?"

"So what if I do?"

Emma asks, her smile remaining but that slight note of ingrained distrust never quite leaving her tone.

 _Clever girl._

"I was just curious... Of course, it doesn't _matter_ in the end."

The Queen shrugs, and the younger woman's brow furrows as she demands through the bars

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that whether you like what you see or not, you don't have the guts to play to win. You don't even have it in you to play the next _hand_."

The darker woman goads, and the blonde's eyes flash with warning as she snaps back

"You think I'm so idiotic that I don't recognise _bait_ when I see it? You're not asking me this out of any real interest, you're asking me because you're waiting for me to fuck up... Well, it's not going to happen, Your Majesty. I know how this dungeon works and I know that you're stuck in it unless I see fit to release you. You can challenge me all you like, but I'm not about to open up the gate just to prove a point. Not when I know it's what you want."

Emma warns, and she smirks as she spies a shadow of irritation flicker across the darker woman's face.

"Fine."

The Queen sighs, throwing the younger woman a caustic glare.

"Have it your way. But, I stand by what I said. You claim I'm all bark and no bite, well so are _you_. You've played your hand, and now you're out of moves."

"No."

The blonde whispers, fury quick to ignite as the brunette calls on her to show some gall. She's a sucker for refusing to back down and she knows this, but after everything the Queen has put her through the last couple of days, she sees red.

"No?"

"No. I can bite."

She assures, gripping the bars and staring the darker woman down through the gaps; the brunette impossibly close. Slipping one hand through the bars, she pulls the Queen closer to her with a rough yank; crashing her lips against her captive's and kissing her hungrily. The darker woman reciprocates with a sly slip of her tongue, before sinking her teeth viciously into the blonde's bottom lip.

" _Ah_!"

"So can I."

The brunette grins, her lips once more red with the Saviour's blood as the younger woman staggers back with her hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes wide with shock.

"What the-"

"-I'm sorry, dear, I really am. That was _quite_ the heated moment, and you _did_ play well... But you see, while you may know who this cell belonged to and the basics of how it works, this is _my_ castle by rights, and I know the _specifics_."

"What?..."

Emma breathes, removing her hand to show a scarlet trail tracked down her chin.

The Queen simply smiles, raising her fingers to her lips and wiping them clean of the blonde's blood with obscene slowness. Finally, she displays their reddened whorls to the Saviour before touching them to the iron bars.

"Specifics such as that a prisoner may be freed by the blood of their captive...

...I suggest that you- how did you put it?- run."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** _Enjoy :) Sorry- but not that sorry- for where the first scene cuts off, I just need to decide on a couple of things. The Lily/ Regina dynamic will also be explained :) Reviews would be great! Hope everyone had a good weekend!_

* * *

 _"... I suggest that you- how did you put it?- run."_

The Queen warns victoriously, and she gives an arrogant flick of her wrist which sends rusted iron yawning slowly open to offer her freedom. The blonde simply stares, watching her with eyes wide like a doe's caught in the headlights, and- just like an animal fated for doom- she seems momentarily unable to move.

"You didn't _really_ think you could beat me, did you Saviour?"

The brunette asks, her voice liquid silk as she relishes what she has always considered her rightful claim to the upper hand.

"You haven't won yet."

Emma points out, drinking in soft, forbidden flesh and the look of dark promise that spreads salaciously across the Queen's lips.

"That really _is_ one of your biggest flaws, did you know that, dear? The inability to accept that you are not entitled to come out the victor in every game you choose to play. Some may respect you for that, but I see it more as a spoilt child unable to grasp that things aren't going her way."

The brunette muses lightly.

"I think you may be deflecting some of your _own_ hangups onto me, Your Majesty. I only expect to beat you at the final hour because of the experience I've gained in doing just _that_."

"Well, then prepare to be educated."

The darker woman snaps, and she takes a couple of steps closer; grinning sadistically as the blonde reciprocates with a few uneasy steps back.

"Last chance, Saviour. I won't lie to you and tell you that you might actually get away, but I'll at least offer you the opportunity to try. I'll _even_ allow you a head start... And they said I knew nothing of kindness."

The brunette shakes her head in a burlesque portrayal of regret, before smirking back up at the younger woman and hissing dangerously

"Go on, Emma... Run."

"No."

The blonde bites back, her teeth bared as the Queen takes a purposeful step closer; dark eyes glittering through the gloom.

"Go on, little rabbit."

The darker woman goads threateningly, now only a foot away from the blonde.

"No!"

Emma barks back again, more forcefully this time, and the brunette snarls before taking her final step and backing the younger woman roughly against the wall. She slams her hands either side of the blonde's head- the porous grit of the rock walls damp against her palms- as she pushes her bare form against the Saviour's and finds her lips. There is an aggression and a warning to her kiss, and Emma tastes her own blood on the darker woman's tongue as the Queen removes one hand from the wall and finds her throat. The flicker of fear this incites battles for dominance against the ache low in her gut as she can smell the brunette's excitement- hot and dangerous- and cruel nails claw and sink in. Playing back- unwilling to allow the Queen any fantasy of victory- Emma refuses to let her nervousness show as the darker woman presses down, and instead takes charge of their kiss; tasting the brunette hungrily before offering the small nick to the Queen's lip a sly flick of her tongue and bringing her own hands up to plunge into dark tresses. The brunette's brow furrows in surprise, having expected a retaliation rather than an invitation, and as she seems momentarily unsure, the younger woman grabs a fist of thick hair and pulls savagely until the threatening grip at her throat eases up a little.

"Bitch."

The Queen growls, pulling back to regard the blonde furiously and Emma shows her teeth as she bats the darker woman's hand away from her neck and grabs her wrist; digging in her own nails in retribution. She can feel delicate bones grating as she tightens her grip, but the brunette's expression doesn't change to allow any signs of discomfort. Instead, the Queen pushes more firmly into the younger woman with her hips, forcing one leg between the blonde's as she swiftly reverses Emma's cruel grip with her own in the split second of uncertainty that follows; pining the Saviour's hand up against the wall as she stares her down with fire flickering in dark coals.

"You can still back down, dear. Your move."

She taunts breathlessly, and Emma narrows her eyes as she seethes, before leaning back in to brush at scarlet lips while she removes her free hand from dark hair and drags her nails purposefully down between the Queen's exposed breasts; trailing lower with clear intent before the brunette grabs at her wrist and pins this hand too against the wall. Just like up in the garden when she had been in control, Emma knows before even trying that she will be unable to push back against the darker woman's iron grip even when she uses her power. It seems that they are well matched, and that the key to the game is to have been the first to make a move; that dominance and upper hand quelling the other's attempt to render the threat neutral.

"You should have run."

The Queen smirks as she savours the image of the younger woman pinned at her mercy, and Emma raises a brow as she asks huskily

"Why? It's still anyone's game."

Earning herself an angry snarl as the brunette is ill-practiced in dealing with such blatant insubordination.

 _As Regina, I dealt with it daily at the hands- the tongue- of the insufferable bitch, but this is hardly a spat between two town leaders. I have her mine to rights and yet she continues to challenge me; refuses to break._

"Your pride will be your undoing, Swan."

"I've heard that before, I'm sure I'll hear it again. In this case though, I'd say you're just turning something I merely stated as fact into a personal slight, and that seems kind of infantile. _Weak_ , almost- _ah_!"

The younger woman chokes as the brunette slams into her roughly in retribution, and she glowers back into dark eyes as she regains her breath, before dropping her gaze as the Queen releases one of her hands in favour of pressing her palm purposefully against the base of her corset.

"You... You..."

The darker woman searches for a term that will encompasses the crippling hatred she feels towards the Saviour, but she comes up empty and so she simply begins a slow trail up the supple flank of the younger woman's corset; exposing pale skin in her wake as she slices black leather cleanly in two, leaving a hairline graze where she has cut purposefully deep.

"It's _my_ game, Saviour."

She whispers, swallowing as the younger woman's hand so recently released comes to rest at her shoulder; Emma's fingers gripping tight as soft leather falls open, and the Queen leans in to taste her, hot flesh pressed against the same as her hand comes to rest between them, dangerous and heavy over the blonde's heart.

"There's no one to help you now, Swan."

"That makes two of us, then. Play your hand... Or was that supposed to scare me into backing down?"

The way I see it, I have you backed up just as I'd like you."

"Enjoy that while it lasts."

"I intend to."

The darker woman smiles, and the blonde suffers a flicker of doubt as, up close as she stands now, she finds herself unable to draw the line between the Queen and Regina.

She refuses to accept that her confusion stems from the fact that beneath her anger and need to win this bizarre game of wills exists an unsettling but strong sense of anticipation.

 _She's not Regina..._

* * *

"Regina?"

Lily frowns as she looks up in response to her name being called. She pulls herself up from her slouched perch against the lamppost as the Mayor approaches, adopting a hard expression as she has no clue just what the brunette might want from her.

 _Whatever it is, it will give me great pleasure to deny her it._

She allows a cold smile to touch her lips for a moment as this thought swims comfortingly through her mind, and she slips her phone into her back pocket as she crosses her arms over her chest and waits impatiently for the Mayor to stop in front of her.

"What do you want?"

She asks, and Regina sighs as while she has no idea what she has done to rub the young woman up the wrong way, she has never received anything but ice from Lily since returning to Storybrooke with her in tow all those months ago. She privately finds this a little rich, given as _she_ wasn't the one to pull a gun on the woman, but as they spend little time around each other, she has simply opted not to take any interest in whatever ill feelings fester on Lily's end.

Now, she stands with her hands buried in the pockets of her coat and an uneasy expression painting her brow; refusing to let the clear tension between them hinder her current objective.

"Have you seen Emma?"


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** _Getting there! :p Enjoy, and please review! :)_

* * *

" _Have you seen Emma?"_

Regina waits as Lily seems to debate how to answer, and she clenches her hands into fists inside pockets of her coat; all of a sudden brought back to when the blonde had first come to town. Emma had often offered her that same, hard look, although even back then she'd found something enticing flickering behind the ice of the younger woman's glower. With Lily, all she receives is stone, and she wonders for a moment if she means to answer her at all.

"Day before yesterday."

Lily grunts eventually, and the Mayor frowns as she muses

"I haven't seen her since this morning."

"So? What's strange about that?"

The younger woman shrugs, and Regina resists the urge to snap at her that it's actually fairly strange indeed for her not to have heard anything from the blonde for so long. Privately, this realisation surprises her, threatening to make her blush, and she wonders if Emma has also picked up on the fact that they sometimes act like an old, married couple.

It would be a good explanation for why she's suddenly avoiding her.

A smirk at this, but she knows there's a more serious reason she's heard nothing from the blonde since Emma had behaved so peculiarly earlier today, and her fingers brush against the fractured cuff in her pocket as she sighs

"She was acting strangely."

Silence at this as Lily simply looks bemused, and Regina rolls her eyes as she elaborates

"Not strange as in just being _Emma_ , strange as in... Something's not right."

"What makes you say that?"

"She wasn't talking to me how she usually would... Wasn't _acting_ how she usually would."

"Maybe she's pissed off at you?"

Lily suggests, and Regina bites back a retort as the younger woman's expression suggests she'd find this to be highly likely.

"She has no _reason_ to be 'pissed' at me, I haven't done anything that would irritate her that I can think of."

"Really? Emma has _no_ reason to be angry at you?"

Lily asks, her eyes hard, and the Mayor frowns, feeling uncomfortable, and she pulls the cuff from her pocket and holds it out for her companion to see.

"I found this at her house in the basement. I have no idea how it got there, or what it means that it was there when she wasn't... Nor how it came to be broken."

"What is it?"

"A dampener cuff. These things are hard to come by as they're tricky to enchant. Gold has had access to a couple since the curse broke, and my mother was a firm believer in their usefulness, but they're not commonplace. Emma wouldn't know how to create something like this, which leads me to believe it was used _on_ her, not used _by_ her... I can feel her magic still lingering in it."

This time Regina does blush, something so obscurely intimate about this admission, but Lily seems not to notice as she studies the cuff with a rather bored expression.

"Well, it's broken. Doesn't that mean it no longer works?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"-So what's the problem?"

The younger woman shrugs, and the Mayor frowns as she closes her hand around the cuff and slips it back into her pocket, stating icily

"If all of her friends were as disinterested as _you_ seem to be, I'm beginning to understand Miss Swan's distaste for asking others for help."

To her surprise, this statement garners her immediate anger, Lily snapping at her with more passion than the brunette has seen since first encountering the woman on her bizarre road trip with Emma.

" _Don't_ you start telling me how I should feel! You have _no_ right."

Narrowing her eyes, the Mayor purses her lips; resentful at this small outburst, but she doesn't turn away. Instead, she strives for patience and tries again.

"I'm concerned that something might have happened to Emma. I haven't spoken to her parents about it because I don't know _what_ it is that might have happened yet, and I know she'd prefer I not worry them unnecessarily. I was going to ask Hook, but I wondered if coming to you might be a better option."

"Over the pirate? Of course."

Lily scoffs, and Regina raises a brow, surprised at the clear note of disdain in her voice.

"Oh?"

"Obviously... So, what do you want from me?"

"Well, would you come back to Emma's house with me to take a look?"

"I'm not sure she'd appreciate that."

"I'm sure she'll understand if I tell her we had a reason to be concerned. Come on, I locked up when I left there earlier, but I have keys."

"You have _keys_?"

"Well, they're Henry's, but yes. Why?"

"Nothing... I just don't understand your guys's relationship in the slightest."

Lily muses as she falls into step beside the Mayor, and Regina throws a troubled look down at her heels as she suffers the uncomfortable thought

 _Nor do I some of the time. Sometimes I'm not sure just_ what's _going on between us._

* * *

The Queen's lips brush tantalisingly against the blonde's as sly fingers dip into tight leather and Emma swallows a noise somewhere between a groan and a cry.

 _Oh, fuck... Finally..._

The word swims at the forefront of her mind as she closes her eyes, and she pushes it forcefully away; retaliating against the insanity it seems to suggest by lashing out and biting at the brunette's throat. She does so roughly, making it very clear- at least to herself- that she's not playing with any version of Regina she might associate with pleasant evenings and carefully honed camaraderie. Her teeth leave a mark, and she yelps as the darker woman slams into her roughly, pushing her hard against the wall.

"I don't recommend you try that again..."

The Queen warns, sending a harsh bolt of power to play from her fingertips to act as a warning, and the blonde's knees buckle as she hisses but the darker woman's thigh remains wedged between her own and keeps her from falling. Soft laughter at this, suddenly cut short as Emma slides her palm down the bare flesh of the Queen's stomach to even the score. She doesn't pay her back with power, but rather a slow dip of slim fingers; deliciously deep.

"I wouldn't have thought you had it in you, Saviour."

The brunette murmurs into thick curls, her breathing shallow as Emma makes no move to pull out but rather applies pressure with her palm to earn herself a hitched sigh.

"Maybe you'd fair better if you quit underestimating me all of the time."

The younger woman suggests silkily.

"Expecting you to trip yourself up over one of your _many_ hangups is hardly 'underestimating' you, dear, it's simply waiting for the inevitable... And had you _wanted_ me to assume you'd be a, hmmm, deft hand at this?"

The blonde can feel full lips smirking against the hollow of her jaw, and she thrusts her fingers roughly to earn a guttural cry of surprise.

"Touch a nerve, did I?"

The Queen goads huskily once she's recovered, before she bites down on her lip to suppress a moan as Emma slips her thumb up to tease over slick flesh, musing wickedly

"No, but I think I might have."

She watches as the brunette tries to snap back at her but seems momentarily unable to do much more than shudder. She feels a delicious wave of victory that is cut short when the darker woman uses both her power and brute force to spin her around; rendering her suddenly no longer in control, but pushed submissively- vulnerably- against the pitted wall of the dungeon.

The Queen smiles, admiring the view, before demanding curiously

" _Have_ you done this before?"

Emma rolls her eyes, her cheek pressed against wet stone as the brunette clutches her wrists tightly behind her back, keeping her bent as she'd like her.

"Answer me."

The darker woman orders, snaking her hand around the blonde's stomach to open up her pants, before tugging tight leather down pale thighs to reveal the younger woman intimately.

"Have I been accosted while shoved against the damp wall of a dungeon? No, I can't say that I have."

Emma growls, and the Queen shakes her head- perturbed by this purposeful insolence- and slips her fingers between slender legs.

"Not that. _This_."

She hisses, teasing pointedly and smirking as she watches heavy lashes flutter closed.

"Maybe... I was curious."

"You were curious?"

The darker woman raises a brow, and Emma shrugs as best as she can in her current position, replying reasonably

"I'm a curious person."

"Yes... I would say that you are."

The Queen agrees quietly, dark eyes wandering over pale flesh as her sly teasing becomes a more focused attack, and she nips at the sharp point of her tongue appreciatively as she watches the younger woman quiver. She allows herself to relish this for a little while longer, working her fingers until she's rewarded with a husky sound of pleasure, but this is still a game, and she has no intention of allowing the blonde to get off so easily.

 _Pardon the pun._

Letting go of the younger woman's wrists cautiously, dark eyes flash with wicked excitement as Emma slams her palms against the wall to brace herself; preoccupied with seeking her release as playful fingers continue to keep her on edge. With her other hand now free, the Queen makes a small movement with her wrist to summon a dark, heavy item from one of the hidden chests upstairs in the castle, and she applies sublime pressure as she bucks her hips into the blonde's with a hiss of anticipation, before putting her new prop to use.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** _Sorry for the wait, I have been mostly working on my own/ non fanfic story which has a deadline coming up soon. Hopefully once that's all done (fingers crossed) I will have more time to update fics._

 _anyway, this has been a long time in coming :p Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading. Reviews would be awesome :)_

* * *

"Ah!"

The blonde barks in surprise as the Queen bucks into her roughly, and she's given a brief moment to relish this forceful progression before her world goes suddenly dark.

She stills; standing frozen with her legs splayed and palms flat against the dungeon wall.

It isn't magic that causes her disorientation this time, but leather; heavy and smelling strongly of wax and iron. She breathes slowly, telling herself not to panic as the hood the darker woman has slipped over her head comes down around her shoulders, rendering her blind and partially deaf. She feels a curious mix of anger and excitement; each as strong as the other, thus leaving her unsure how to continue. She is furious at the Queen for her little trick, viewing her current predicament as humiliating and degrading. She's played around with blindfolds on a couple of occasions in the past, but this is something else entirely. This isn't some silk scarf or the damp swatch of her underwear tied lightly over her eyes, this is a power play and a test, and she knows that right now she's being forced into playing submissive for as long as she allows this exchange to continue.

A part of her wants to refuse the brunette that satisfaction. A part of her is ready to yank off the hood and come at the bitch with all that she's got.

That part is kept on its leash by the intoxicating cocktail of excitement and wanting that sits low in her gut. She might despise the wicked woman currently grabbing her hips with cruelly delicious force for what she has done and said since making her existence known, but that doesn't mean that a lot of the Queen's revelations and assumptions had been _untrue_. The brunette has continually accused her of wanting her- wanting _this_ \- and she is unable to deny that she does.

She wants this _badly_.

Because the Queen had been right; things have been strained and confusing for a long time now, and everything about the darker woman's touch and proximity feels right.

 _Are you really going to let her treat you like this, though?_

She grits her teeth, her lips brushing against the soft inside of heavy leather, as she isn't sure of her answer. She knows that she must be casting a pretty vulnerable picture right now and that the brunette must be enjoying herself immensely. There is nothing pretty, nothing playful about the hood covering her face, but rather something altogether more perverse, and she is reminded of the way Regina had spoken to her when she'd fist come to town. Madame Mayor had made it very clear just how she'd looked down on her, showcasing a grotesque breed of pity born of disdain and disgust.

That same variety of disdain exists here, tangled up in the Queen's amusement as crass leather demotes her opponent from sparring partner to plaything.

"Bitch."

The blonde spits, and the word comes out muffled; incomprehensible to any but herself.

She considers her options as it becomes increasingly harder to breathe, before the brunette's previous teasing begins once again, only this time with explicit purpose. Her fingers blanch at the tips as she digs them into the pitted wall, swallowing a groan as the Queen first brings her hand down hard against the curve of her ass, and then digs in her nails possessively. Emma arches her back in response and loses her balance- scuffing the insides of her arms- as the brunette bucks into her once again to send her blindly clinging on to the rough surface of the rock. Sly fingers trail up the small of her back in juxtaposition to this cruel assault, tracing her pale skin gently. Finally, they meet tangled curls spilling out from beneath crude leather, and the younger woman snarls as the Queen yanks at her hair, just able to hear the low melody of her laughter.

"Do you fold, Saviour?"

The darker woman asks, speaking up, and the blonde shivers as she can feel the gentle press of the brunette's breasts against her back as the Queen leans over her; one hand snaking down her stomach to apply wonderful pressure that makes it hard to focus.

Not wanting to give the darker woman the satisfaction of trying to make herself heard, Emma stays silent. She can feel the brunette breathing heavily against her, and takes some solace in the fact that their game is clearly effecting the Queen just as deliciously as it's effecting herself.

Cruel teeth sink into her shoulder- surprising her- in response to her silent bid that they continue, before warm hands find her hips. For a moment, the brunette simply presses against her, enjoying the sordid implication as she allows two, hard thrusts. More laughter, but the grip of her hands becomes less dominant and more teacherly as she guides the blonde to stand up straight and turn around.

She bites her lip hungrily as the Saviour complies; drinking in raw grazes marring pale arms and a scuff to the younger woman's sternum from where her insinuated fucking has slammed the blonde roughly against the wall.

Pulling Emma into the centre of the room a little awkwardly as the latter still wears her pants pushed halfway down her legs, she orders loudly

"Kneel."

No sign of compliance as the younger woman remains stood with her hands down by her sides, leaving her intimately displayed.

"Kneel!"

The Queen repeats demandingly, and finally Emma _does_ move; raising one hand and flipping her off.

"You insolent little..."

But the brunette fails to find a fitting term of resentment as her anger boils over, greatly encouraged by her lust, and she throws herself at the younger woman aggressively; wrestling her down onto the floor. She imagines this might usually be a little more difficult as she's seen enough examples of the Saviour's strength and ingrained defiance. With Emma quite literally in the dark however, the Queen is able to dominate her with relative ease; keeping the thrashing blonde pinned beneath her as she tugs the latter's leather pants further down until met with the barrier of her boots. She considers removing these also, but with previously restrictive material now acting more to aid her in controlling the younger woman rather than hindering her access, she decides to leave Emma as she is; pinned on her back and apparently livid if the painful clawing at her thigh is anything to go off.

"Enough!"

The brunette orders, but she is unsurprised when the younger woman's response is to strive even harder to draw blood. Ignoring this show of insolence in favour of moving herself into a more comfortable position, she finds that the blonde's attack swiftly falters when she once more finds slick heat and thrusts warningly. She catches a choked cry dampened by heavy leather, and repeats the action even harder. Slender thighs come up around her own in response, whether to pull her in further or in an attempt to curl up protectively the Queen neither knows nor cares.

She's vaguelly surprised in herself at her chosen course of action. She has always been one to take and demand sexually, and why shouldn't she? It strikes her as out of character that she should allow the blonde pleasure before finding it for herself, but she can't deny that watching the younger woman's reactions to her teasing- _teasing? Hardly? Teasing doesn't set one's heart in one's throat. Teasing doesn't render one's limbs slick as they perspire as a result of their delicious effort. Fucking. That's what this is. Fucking_ \- ignites its own thrilling breed of ecstasy.

 _And yet..._

And yet old habits die hard, and as she feels Emma begin to tense and quiver beneath her, she rips away the dark shroud of the hood; drinking in flushed cheeks to which damp curls stick messily as the younger woman takes in grateful gulps of air and readies herself to go over the edge.

The Queen drinks in the crease that centres the blonde's brow as she waits expectantly- wantonly- for her release.

She drinks in blown pupils and wary green as sooty lashes open slowly in response to her slick fucking coming to an abrupt stop.

"What are you _doing_?!"

Emma asks breathlessly, although the vexed disbelief in her tone doesn't match the dawning comprehension that alights her eyes.

"What I want."

The Queen purrs, smiling wide as she studies the younger woman with delighted awe; relishing the state in which she has managed to get her and the war of fury and desperation battling it out across Emma's face for her perverse enjoyment.

"Regina..."

The blonde growls, before flashing her teeth as the Queen smirks at this chosen form of address. The brunette raises a knowing brow, cupping the younger woman's sex lightly as she challenges her

"I know what you want, Saviour, but I want to hear you ask for it. Beg."

And for a moment she resigns herself to the fact that if Emma complies, she might well allow her to find first release, as there is something so tantalising about her current display, but she is saved from any self-serving dilemna as the blonde glares back at her, keeping her mouth firmly shut.

"No?"

Sweet like honey, but the younger woman clenches her jaw as though her words hide a bitter sting. The brunette applies just a little more promise to her touch, but she can see that she's not going to be rewarded with an answer.

 _Have it your way._

"Always so defiant, dear, but where does it ever _get_ you? Constantly stressed and alone in a thankless role. You should let go, Saviour, you clearly _want_ to."

She allows Emma a couple of seconds to heed her words, but doesn't expect anything. When she is offered no sign of submission, she enforces it physically; once more using her power to aid her in manhandling the blonde. This time, she forces her around onto her stomach, and she swallows as she feels several waves of retaliation wash over her, but the younger woman's magic fails to take affect as her own works its wonders.

"Very nice."

She muses quietly, purposely antagonising the situation further, although this is not the only benefit to her new position, as she really _does_ mean what she says. Leaning down over the blonde, she bites at her shoulder before nipping higher at her throat; moving against the soft round of the younger woman's backside roughly so as best to enjoy the sensation. Her previous toying and the show it has resulted in have left her close to the edge herself, and it takes no time at all before she's making her pleasure known vocally, with one hand fisting long curls and the other clutching stacked ribs with bruising force to better aid her fucking.

"I _told_ you not to go up against me. I _told_ you I would win."

She pants breathlessly, pulling harder on tangled curls to force the blonde into looking at her. She'd been hoping for horror and perhaps hurt, and cries of injustice, but Emma merely narrows her eyes as her teeth remain clenched. The Queen's bucking grinds her bare stomach uncomfortably against the cold grit of the floor, but she says nothing.

She says nothing as she is angry- furious- but knows that the darker woman has the upper hand here, and that anything she growls up at her will only add fuel to the fire. The brunette _wants_ her to snap and bite back, so she won't. She's given up trying to flip the Queen off of her with her magic as it appears useless, and she's fairly sure that the darker woman is able to tell what she's attempting to do and that her failure is only furthering her pleasure. She can feel just how close the brunette is to release in the increasingly jerked way she moves against her and the trembling of her thighs. She decides to let it happen rather than continue to fight it; not counting it as a loss if she's no longer trying to win, and sordidly curious to watch the finale of the Queen's rough display.

She'll regroup once she's seen how this all plays out.

She'll come out of this the victor. Somehow.

"Oh, god..."

The brunette hisses, shaking tellingly as she moves over the blonde before tensing up with her head bowed down and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Panting harshly, she slowly brings herself back under control and gazes down at pale skin dazedly. Letting go of the hair still clutched in her fist, she pushes herself up and stands over the younger woman sprawled on the floor.

"That will teach you to be so bold."

She breathes, before frowning in surprise when Emma laughs softly. The blonde pushes herself around so that she sits upright, displaying reddened flesh stippled with nicks and grazes as several flecks of grit still cling to her body.

"Yeah?"

She asks quietly, standing up a little unsteadily and pulling tight leather back up to cover her sex.

"Yes."

The Queen snaps, although she sounds slightly uncertain; unsure why the Saviour seems unfazed by her recent ordeal, or why she injects her voice with such a hatefully goading tone.

"I don't know about that-"

Emma shakes her head.

"-The way I see it, you won the prize, but you _definitely_ didn't win the game. You demanded your way like a child, and I gave it to you."

"You had no _option_! I _beat_ you!"

The Queen insists angrily, and the blonde disagrees calmly

"No. I had no option to push you off, true, but that's really the end to your power. I could have folded. I could have taken off that ridiculous hood. I could have begged. I did none of those things, because when I play, Your Majesty, I play hard. You didn't win; I _let_ you. Just like playing a game of cards with Henry."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

Emma grins, revelling in the cagey frustration the Queen exhibits. It is a game she has played with Regina off and on since they met, and she is unsurprised that it works just as well on the brunette's fairytale counterpart. Regina can be demanding and she has a way about her that commands obedience. She has confidence and poise and uses both to get her way... What she _doesn't_ have is much experience in having these qualities questioned. Emma had learnt that early on, as while the brunette might usually be able to get what she wants, she sometimes falters when the two of them spar. Regina relies on sultry orders and silken threats, and she has grown accustomed to having them nervously obeyed. She has a tendency to lose her cool when faced with the blonde's sarcasm and almost _offensive_ lack of understanding of her position. Emma's way of challenging her while sounding infuriatingly bored over the inconvenience of having to do so rarely fails to rile her up, and this moment is no different.

"You're... You..."

The darker woman struggles to find an insult befitting of her current irritation, and Emma squares up to her defiantly.

"I am not so easily beat, Your Highness, and the sooner you learn that lesson, the better."

Dark eyes flash in response, before the brunette takes a step back in surprise; the younger woman shrouding herself in a plume of smoke as she takes her leave of the dungeon, leaving her opponent stood bare with her fists angrily clenched.

"We'll just see about that..."

* * *

"That's what I meant about the basement door."

Regina gestures towards the damage as she closes Emma's front door behind herself and Lily and slips the blonde's keys back into her pocket.

"She kicked it in."

Lily muses, yet she still seems unusually calm to the Mayor who frowns and points out uneasily

"Possibly, I mean it does _look_ that way, but _why_?"

"Emma does that."

Lily shrugs, turning away from the splintered wood and padding down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Not without a _reason_ she doesn't!"

Regina insists, following her infuriating companion into the shadows of the blonde's kitchen and watching as the younger woman helps herself to a beer from the fridge. Lily catches the accusatory scowl this action garners her, and she pulls out a second can which she holds out to the Mayor with a roll of her eyes.

"Here."

"I don't want _that_! I didn't bring you here to raid Miss Swan's liquor supply, I brought you here because a woman you _claim_ is your friend appears to be _missing_ under curious circumstances."

"She _is_ my friend."

Lily snaps back, taking a long drink from the can in her hand before making her way back out into the hall and up the stairs.

"Well, you're not acting that way!"

Regina retorts, entering the blonde's bedroom at Lily's heels.

"The windows are shut."

The younger woman observes, and the Mayor glances over at dark glass visible between a gap in the curtains.

"...Is that not normal?"

She asks, and Lily shakes her head, toeing at some of Emma's laundry on the floor.

"No? Maybe? I don't know when Hook was last here, but I've never known Emma to close the windows, especially if sharing the room with a guy; they smell."

Lily shrugs, and Regina considers this curiously; something oddly infantile about this assessment, yet she can picture a younger version of the blonde imparting this fact to her friend with no trouble at all. It seems exactly the sort of wisdom she'd expect from Emma, and she looks around the room curiously before walking into the bathroom in search of further clues.

"Weren't you two fairly young when you hung out together?"

She asks over her shoulder, wondering when the afformentioned topic might have come up.

"Young, but hardly _innocent_ -"

Lily calls back, causing the brunette to frown, before she adds on

"-But I don't think she meant it that way. She was in the system, who _knows_ how many temporary brothers that landed her with."

This explanation strikes Regina as altogether more paleateble, although she still doesn't find the image it creates all too pleasing. Stalking back into the blonde's bedroom, she heads over to the window to open it.

"There's a couple of towels on the floor in there, and they're damp. That's on top of the ones that are hanging up on the rail. That seems excessive."

"So? If you think a messy bathroom is suspicious, you clearly don't know Emma."

"I-"

"-Maybe that's for the best!"

Lily interrupts with a low chuckle, and the brunette turns to face her with a frown.

"What's _funny_ about this? What-"

But Lily answers her question by stepping aside so that she can see what dangles from the blonde's headboard.

"Oh."

She offers in a small, prim voice, promptly looking away from the empty handcuffs with a flare of deep scarlet colouring her cheeks.

"Well, you wanted to know what Emma'd been up to!"

Lily giggles, falling down onto the blonde's bed with a gleeful smirk.

"Yes, well... I meant where she might have disappeared off to, not... That."

Regina snaps back, biting back an angry retort as Lily breathes beneath her breath

"Chill out, shit..."

Gathering herself, the Mayor walks over to the bed and stands looking down at her companion with her hands on her hips.

"Handcuffs don't explain the fact that Emma's missing."

She states simply.

"Maybe not... I still don't get why you're so convinced that she's in _trouble_ though _,_ she might just have decided to take off for a couple of days."

"No."

"No? How'd you figure 'no'?"

"We share a _child_. If Miss Swan had decided to take off, she would have told me. She also wouldn't do something like that when we still don't know the intricacies of the ship crashed in the forest."

"Oh, please, like she's _that_ reliable."

"She is to _me._ "

Regina snaps, and Lily glares up at her as she plays with her hair, the rest of which fans out over the blonde's pillow as she remains sprawled on the bed.

"You seem so sure that she's come to some kind of harm..."

"I'm not sure about _anything_ , but I'd like to _discount_ that theory at least."

"Mmm... Maybe. Maybe that's true... Or maybe you know something more about all this than you're letting on."

"I... _What_?! What would I _possibly_ know?! _I'm_ the one trying to get to the bottom of all this!"

"So you claim. I'm just saying that maybe it's a ruse..."

"... Why on _earth_ would I do that?"

Regina demands in disbelief, and she watches as Lily pushes herself up to check the blonde's closet before peeking in the bathroom for herself. She's agitated at the younger woman's accusations, but the coldness she feels projected towards herself seems disconcertingly genuine, and she takes up a perch on Emma's bed and waits for Lily to come back into view.

"What did you mean earlier?"

"Huh?"

"When you implied that Emma might have reason to be angry with me. What did you mean by that?"

"... Are you _serious_?"


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** _I'm wondering if the Lily storyline goes with this story (it's one I had wanted to write for a while) but it's too late to turn back now :p I think it does, and will add depth later on, but I did initially set out to write a kinkier/ darker fic focused on sex and power without neccesarily planning on bringing Regina's (nice Regina haha) emotions into it as much. Personally, I like the way this is working out as it's interesting for me to explore, but I am aware it might read a little like two fics at once at the moment. I will make sure this comes together and is rectified with how it goes on. Anyway, I will stop narrating my thoughts and let you get on! I hope you enjoy, and reviews would be awesome!_

* * *

 _"...Are you serious?"_

Lily looks down at the brunette with an expression of disbelief, causing Regina to bristle uncomfortably. Still, she pushes the issue, shivering slightly as a cold breeze enters the recently opened window and stirs at the curtains.

"I'm serious. Why do you presume Emma would be angry with me? I know we didn't exactly start out as the best of friends, but she and I have moved on immeasurably since then. She's mentioned _nothing_ to me about any underlying grievance, and I can assure that I have enough experience to know that she would let me know loud and clear if something was wrong. True, the last time I saw her she was behaving rather curiously, but she gave no sign that she was upset or annoyed with me... Quite the opposite. Before that, the last time I saw her, we were drinking coffee at Granny's and the woman was in _stitches_ telling me about a bizarre dream she'd had; hardly the behaviour of one with a grudge."

"Just how blind _are_ you?!"

Lily barks angrily, and Regina swallows, taken aback, as the younger woman flashes her teeth.

"What do you mean?"

"All those things- all the _nice_ little chats you have, all the breakfast dates shooting the shit over fucking coffee... It's like you don't even realise what it is that you _did_!"

Lily seethes, and the Mayor frowns as she recognises genuine hate in the younger woman's eyes. Continuing with caution, she watches as Lily begins to pace back and forth with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans and thunder playing across her brow.

"What did I do?"

"You cast a fucking _curse_! Or did you _forget_ that?"

"Look, I _realise_ I made mistakes in the past, but-"

"- _Mistakes?!_ I grew up without my mother because you kept her trapped under a damned _library_ for twenty-eight years! Yes, I can blame Snow and Charming for some of the shit I had to deal with, but it all eventually comes back to _you_ and everything that you did. Without _you_ around, I could have had a normal life, a good life, I could have been happy! Just _seeing_ you when I'm in town makes my blood boil. I hate you, deeply and absolutely, I hate you. But do you want to know the part that just pisses me off over _everything_ else, now? It's that you speak to Emma as though you're her friend. You go to her for advice, you ask her for help, you expect her to be there for you. I can't understand how you could think you'd have a right to do that after everything you did!"

Lily stops her pacing and turns to face the brunette; challenging her. Regina bites the tip of her tongue nervously, thrown by the younger woman's accusation, and while she answers back in a calm, measured tone, inside she feels a little nauseous as it has been quite some time since her past decisions have been called out for her to answer to. She has spent a long time now building bridges with the others, and sometimes, admittedly, she forgets just how far they've come because of everything that has happened since those dark days of her past.

"Emma comes to _me,_ also. We rely on each other. I don't _blame_ you for hating me, I would feel the same way I'm sure, but Emma _doesn't_. Maybe that doesn't seem right or fair to you, but we've each put in a lot of work to make things okay between us."

"I can't accept that."

"It doesn't matter, it's not _your_ choice to make."

"No, it's Emma's, and I can't understand how she can make you feel like everything's fine. Everything's over and forgiven. It disgusts me."

Lily chokes, her anger adding salt to her words, and the Mayor shrugs, not sure what else to say on the matter and feeling thoroughly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way. I can't speak for Miss Swan, however; I can't tell you why she behaves as she does. All I can tell you is that the way she was behaving the last time I saw her wasn't _normal_ , and that I'm concerned about her. Whether you like me or not doesn't change the reason I asked you to come here with me. You may not care for me, but you do for Emma, and _she's_ the one we're trying to help."

"She doesn't need your help, you don't _deserve_ the right to help her."

"That's your opinion. All due respect, but I've helped her numerous times, and that help has been both neccesary and appreciated."

"She should hate you."

"But she _doesn't_. Whether you like it or not, she doesn't, and I know her well enough to be sure that she wouldn't thank you for speaking _for_ her like you are now."

"No. You know her _now_. Of the two of us, I'm the one that really _knows_ her. _I'm_ the one that knows all the gritty, unappetising, nasty things that she's done you the undeserved courtesy of keeping tucked neatly away. The way Snow stacked the deck, it was down to me to have to suffer the crappy side of the coin, and believe me, I suffered just fine. Emma was supposed to come out of it all unscathed by prophetic bad luck or whatever, but what about just regular, plain, _magic-free_ bad luck? You cast a curse that led to her dad depositing her inside a wardrobe leading to god knows where in his eyes because you left him no other option; because you wanted her slaughtered... Well, I knew Emma back when she was paying for that threat you made, and I'll bet there were times when she wishes you'd just gone ahead and done it. _You're_ the reason she grew up as she did, and stop nodding as if to say that you know all this, because you know _nothing._ You weren't there. She was my best friend and I spent half the time worrying about her, because I knew things and saw things that were going on at the time. You accuse me of seeming like I don't give a shit, but I _do_. I _always_ have-"

"-I didn't mean it to sound that way. I didn't know-"

"-Exactly! You didn't know! You _don't_ know! Emma doesn't talk about things because I guess that makes it easier for her, but it also makes it easier for _you_... Maybe _she_ can forgive you, but I _can't_. I don't understand how or why she treats you the way she does, I really don't, and it makes me _sick_... Now, I accept that Emma seeming to be missing is unlikely to have anything to do with you, but don't you _ever_ ask why she might have a reason to be angry at you again, or I'll do something she might not like... Fortunately, it seems like she'd probably forgive me for it. Seems that's what she does now."

Lily mutters this last part spitefully with her jaw clenched, before looking up at the Mayor expectantly, waiting for her to bite back. Instead, Regina looks towards the window, completely silent.

"What? You're mad at me? You don't _like_ what I have to say?"

"Of course I don't."

The brunette snaps, looking back up at the younger woman with a telling glitter to dark eyes.

"You're right, there's a lot that I don't know, and I never gave that fact the thought I maybe should have. I'm _not_ mad at you for pointing that out- I don't approve of your tone or your manner, but I'm not _angry_ with you for doing so. I regret what I did, but I can't undo it... For the record, I apologise for your part in everything, I truly do."

"Apology not accepted."

"That's your right, but I can't _do_ anything other than apologise, the rest is up to you. I'm not saying that to goad you, I'm just stating the truth. I appreciate the fact that Emma chose to find her peace with me, and maybe I need to tell her that more often, or at least directly."

"No, you know what you need to do? Get a better perspective on all of this, because your own sucks."

"I can't do anything more than-"

"-You blame her! Constantly, you _blame_ her! For having Hook and Neal and her parents when you felt alone. For messing up some plan or other. For Marion. You gave her so much _grief_ for what was an honest mistake, just like you did Snow. We were good friends back when we were, and we talk now, and she may be picky with her way of wording things, but I've seen you in action and I know _just_ how you will have been towards her."

"I was _upset_."

"Yeah, okay, you were upset. Tell me, at any point has Emma ever turned around to _you_ and thrown it back at you? Has she ever bitten back that you fucked up everything!? You told her that you believed she goes out of her _way_ to ruin things for you, and sure, maybe you were angry, maybe you were hurting, but you know full well it's not true! And the fucking _worst_ part of it all is that she tells you she's sorry! She's _sorry_!? She should be calling you out and making you beg for forgiveness for what you've done, and instead she's telling you she's sorry and following you around hoping you'll allow her back in..."

"I _know!_... I was there, I know all of this. I _hate_ all of this. I didn't _think_."

"That doesn't excuse it."

"I'm not _trying_ to excuse it. I will be the first to admit- at least to you- that I tend to see things in a way that puts me in the best possible light. I don't mean to, but it's a habit. I felt so much relief when I was rid of my darkness once and for all, and maybe I allowed that to help me feel absolved of the past. 'I didn't do that, the Queen did'. In a way that's exactly what happened, but... We _were_ the same person. I feel guilt for my decisions back when I had the throne, and I have done for a long time now. Snow, Charming... Sometimes they remind me of the things that I did if emotions are high and they're feeling spiteful or needing to put me in my place. I _resent_ it, but not them for _doing_ it. Not anymore. Emma does it less, and she and I had no real history before she came to Storybrooke, and I suppose sometimes I don't pair the fact that she's the Saviour with her role in the curse anymore. Now, it's usually a positive thing for everyone, _including_ me, and I don't always respect the fact that I was the one responsible for _giving_ her that title."

Regina sighs, looking around the blonde's room glumly. Her previous urgency to get to the bottom of Emma's disappearance now feels like a throbbing toothache, dulled beneath a heavy shroud of unhappiness. She can feel Lily staring at her, but she doesn't look up. She regrets asking the younger woman for her help and wishes she could turn back the clock in order to erase the last couple of minutes. Nothing that Lily has told her should surprise her, but she finds that exactly how she feels right now.

Surprised.

Surprised and in agreement with the woman stood fuming in the corner.

"I don't _know_ why Emma treats me like she does."

She admits quietly after a long stretch of silence, and Lily toys with her hair distractedly as she senses a drastic change in the energy of the room. She may hate the Queen for what she's done, but she believes the unhappiness in the darker woman's eyes to be entirely genuine. Stalking over to the window and looking out at the unkempt lawn, she sighs.

"When we were first getting to know each other again, the subject of the curse came up a lot, as I'm sure you'd imagine... I blamed you. I always have... Emma... I don't know. I think she was worried that if she started exploring her feelings about it, she'd open up a wound. She blames everyone. You, but also Rumplestiltskin and her parents. She forgave her parents, so she had to forgive you also, at least by her logic. That's what I think, anyway. She has a lot of anger, and I don't know how she's able to hide it so well now. It must still exist though; anger like that doesn't just go away... You know, I thought I couldn't hate you any more than I did at the time, but when Emma stepped in to stop you from becoming the Dark One... I really didn't believe she would ever come back from it. You all said you knew that she would, and I thought you were all idiots... I was wrong though, wasn't I?... I guess I have to accept that you must know her at least a _little_ , because you said she'd come back and she did. I hate even having to say that out _loud_ , but it's true. You must know her a little, after all, she's not the Dark One anymore."

* * *

Regarding herself in an ornate, full length mirror, Emma strips herself of tight leather so that she stands bare. The mirror is the Queen's, just like everything else in the room. The Queen's room. She wonders how long it will take the darker woman to hunt her down, but doesn't pay the eventuality any concern. She's fairly sure that the brunette won't take too kindly to her intruding on her private space, and this notion lends her a smile. No matter what state of play their relationship has been in, a small part of her has always secretly enjoyed pissing the darker woman off. She supposes the fact that the result would usually be a pleasant flutter low down in her stomach makes more sense now.

A _lot_ of things make more sense now.

Touching the scrape to her sternum, she assesses herself curiously; drinking in the new silver of her hair. It makes her look cold, dangerous, and this causes her smile to widen.

Somewhere down the hall, she catches the sound of doors being wrenched open and slammed shut as the Queen seeks her out. Making her way over to the darker woman's bed, she tracks footprints through the dust before climbing up onto silk covers and lying back with one hand draped lazily over the bare flesh of her stomach. Closing her eyes and thinking back to a conversation she'd had with Regina several months ago, her brow furrows as she concentrates, before once more smoothing out as a grin touches her lips and she strokes the cracked spine of the book now lying at her side. Hearing the telling creak of the door being pushed open, she closes time-yellowed pages in a tight grip and greets the Queen with a wicked smirk as the latter spills across the threshold.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** _Happy New Year everyone :) Sorry for the wait on this, Dec was kind of a crazy month! I have now set up a new schedule where I will work in my ongoing fics in the mornings before work (that's the plan anyway!) so they should be updated more regularly! That said, I have a new member of the family arriving on either Wed or Fri so that might take a week or so to calm down/ make introductions (I'm not pregnant and psychic, I'm adopting a cat, which as a diehard dog lady is pretty scary! total pussy virgin... Had to do it!). Anyway! I hope you enjoy, and more to come soon! :) Reviews would be lovely!_

* * *

"What are you doing in here?"

The Queen demands angrily, her dark eyes flashing as she drinks in the pale form draped over her bed.

 _My bed. Mine. And while the little bitch might be proving herself a game to be played and enjoyed, she doesn't deserve to do so_ here. _I saw fit to fuck her on the floor of the dungeons... She has no place where I lay my head to sleep. She-_

Furious thoughts, but they come to a sudden halt, and while the brunette is vaguelly aware of the curious touch of the younger woman's magic shrouding her possessively, it barely registers, as her gaze fixes on the book held tightly between slim fingers.

"You... Where did you get that?"

She seethes, and the blonde smirks at her from her lazy position propped against the headboard, bouncing the foot of one bare leg crossed over the other bent knee playfully.

"Do you remember the night I fixed your washing machine?... I mean, I don't _entirely_ get this whole Her/ You thing, but I guess you must have been lurking around in there somewhere?"

"I-"

"-You, well, _Regina_ had made us a martini- like that even came close to covering the cost of the parts I had to get her, but anyway- it turned into a few more, and I can't for the life of me remember how we got onto the topic, but you- she- told me something pretty interesting... Do you remember?"

"No, I-"

"-Well, _I_ do. _I_ remember. She told me she'd tried starting to keep a journal in order to sort through some of her thoughts after everything that happened with Robin, but that it just wasn't working how it used to. I asked her about that- asked her when she'd tried keeping one before- and she told me about the diaries she'd once kept as a girl. As a young woman... Diaries just like this one."

Emma smiles innocently as she holds up the time-worn pages, and the Queen attempts to lunge for the bed, but she is unable to do much more then stumble where she stands. She has allowed the younger woman to snatch away the upper hand, and understands now that she is paying for her dominance of power down in the dungeons. She should know by now to keep her wits about her when dealing with the Swan woman, but it is not a practice she is in the habit of, as never before has she been faced with an opponent so equally matched and so _sly._

"Leave that alone!"

The brunette warns in a low hiss, and she receives a raised brow in response from the woman lying nude and entirely at ease on her bed.

"I said _leave_ it!"

She snaps venomously as green eyes drop from her gaze to the diary, and Emma fingers through a couple of pages until she seems to find what she's looking for. Looking back up at the darker woman that seethes murderously in the centre of the room, the blonde smiles slowly as she comments

"Cute."

"Saviour, you had better-"

"-I mean, why the _hell_ you needed to document this soppy crap is beyond me, but _cute_!"

There is a definite mocking lilt to her tone now, and the Queen shows her teeth angrily.

"Miss Swan, I am _ordering_ you to-"

"-Kiss me."

Emma interrupts, and the brunette frowns as she stands with her hands balled into tight fists, unable to destroy the younger woman as she so wishes.

"...What?"

"I couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for him to kiss me."

The blonde elaborates, reading aloud with a purposefully girlish inflection to her tone, and she looks up from the page to check that her snooping is having the desired effect of riling the darker woman up and offers her a sweet smirk before continuing.

"I'd waited behind in the stables for the best part of the hour, knowing mother would stop by to ask after the horses to be traded this weekend with Linus. I kept crouched behind the hay bales to keep from her sight, waiting for him to come and find me once the coast was clear. My Daniel."

"Stop this..."

The Queen implores in a raspy tone, her teeth clenched and pulse racing. She finds herself almost _surprised_ by the blonde's cruel behaviour. She might view her as a pathetic nuisance and a problem to eventually be stamped out, but she can't recollect Emma ever displaying purposeful, outright _mean_ intent towards herself; towards Regina. Towards _anyone_ , if she thinks about it. The blonde's way of dealing with things has always been to become cold and distant, rather than take a knife and plunge and twist it as the Queen might like to do herself. She wouldn't have thought the younger woman had such a side to her, but as she drinks in silver curls and dark makeup, she understands that she isn't dealing with any version of the Saviour she'd endured back in Storybrooke.

 _Darkness is enticing, this I know, but I am still surprised she might stoop so low as to use_ Daniel _against me._

She glowers from her forced distance away from the bed; hating the blonde with every fibre of her being, and yet supposing there is something intriguing about being let in on the nasty underbelly of the younger woman's thoughts and feelings that she might usually keep on a tight leash.

 _Yes, but to use_ Daniel _..._

She swallows as she watches Emma push herself up from the bed to take a couple of steps towards her. The blonde's pale skin is dappled with markings from their previous rutting against cold stone, but her teeth as she smiles are perfect, white and dangerous.

"It took him only five minutes at my best guess, but I will admit- I am guilty of being hazy when under his spell. He does things to me I thought impossible, for how could I exist before knowing him? Before knowing his touch?"

The blonde steps up to her prey as she reads out from the Queen's neatly penned memoirs, and she touches her fingers gently to the darker woman's cheek; pinpricked with a scarlet blossom of rage.

"Finally, he held me, and he kissed me; slowly, until I felt unable to breathe, and yet I would have allowed him to continue until there was only blackness."

A slight flutter of breath through dark locks as Emma stifles a chuckle at the Queen's youthful drivel, before she follows Regina's recollection like a script and brushes her lips slowly against the brunette's. The darker woman closes her eyes, unable to break away as the blonde kisses her slowly. She becomes aware that her lungs are suddenly devoid of air, as Emma closes her fist and keeps her at her unseen mercy.

"...I _could_ send you over into the 'blackness', Your Highness, but personally, I'm intrigued as to where this is all going."

Emma whispers against full lips with a small smirk, and she finally opens up her fist to allow the brunette to gulp in a few desperate gasps of air.

"You-"

The Queen hisses, but the blonde interrupts her loudly as she continues to read

"With my heart set aquiver, his fingers found the tight lacing of my dress; freeing me of its restriction and allowing his gaze to wander over me- devouring me."

Another small breath of laughter, but the younger woman follows the diary's instructions without hesitation. The Queen doesn't wear a dress, but the blonde improvises without missing a beat; undressing her opponent slowly until she stands bare amidst a pool of discarded garments. Emma grins as she can feel the telling flutter of the brunette's magic trying desperately to break through and put an end to her fun, but she knows that for now she's in control, and she plans to make good use of the fact.

 _You will not win. You will not beat me as you seem so convinced is inevitable._

"With my body his, he lay me down on the soft hay bedding the stone floor-"

The younger woman continues; guiding the Queen onto the bed and forcing her to lay prone as dark eyes glower up at her.

"-And he removed his mannhood from the confines of his clothes-... Huh... Might need to improvise there..."

Emma smirks as she runs her hand up the inside of the brunette's thigh. Straddling her dominantly, she slips two fingers into slick warmth and murmurs huskily into the darker woman's ear

"Seriously, what's up with the fifty shades crap, Your Majesty? When would writing this stuff down _ever_ play in your favour?... Or was it something to look back on and, hmm, _reminisce_ over when Daniel wasn't around? I'll bet once he died, this stuff might even have been a godsend..."

A low snarl against her cheek and she laughs quietly.

"I can play the game, Your Highness... Don't you forget that, now. Don't go thinking you have me beat."

The blonde warns, looking to her side to scan the pages of the diary and dipping her fingers especially deep accordingly. Experimenting with her power, she keeps her hand pressed to the parchment as she attempts to glean as much information as she can; harnessing not just the words but the memories themselves. She is sure that with more practice she might have greater abilities, but she is marginally successful, and she allows her new knowledge to infiltrate their game.

"Oh..."

The Queen groans, unable to help herself, as the blonde pins her flush and keeps up a slow rythym. A rythym she remembers... And her brow furrows while salt prickles behind clenched lashes, as she is accosted with the delicate scent of cedar wood and leather, and the body atop hers feels somehow fuller- heavier- and gentle teeth graze the spot under her ear that he- that Daniel- had always known would make her melt. She-

"-What the _hell_ are you doing?!"

She gasps, struck by the past as though slapped in the face, and she pushes against the blonde furiously as everything about her touch- her smell- reminds her of back then, back when she'd been weak.

Laughter, and Emma sits back and tosses long hair over her shoulder coyly; her expression deviously gleeful.

"What?"

She asks lightly, and the Queen's mouth works in a bid to find fitting words for such deplorable treachery, but nothing that comes to mind fully encompasses the rage she feels. She is shocked at the gall of the bitch spread out on top of her, and the only thing that keeps her from breaking down and weeping is the pure hate that nurtures her in this form. Should she still have shared a body- a prison- with her lesser, Storybrooke self, she is sure that the blonde might have broken her, but she is the Queen, the _Evil_ Queen, and she will not allow the spawn of her enemies to best her with such a foul hand.

"Bitch."

She hisses simply, and Emma nods agreeably down at her.

Curling her lip angrily, the Queen knows that unless she catches the younger woman by surprise, she remains unable to top her current possession of power over the situation. Over her.

 _True, I can't force her to do my will as she holds the power, but what about by trickery rather than magic?... I believe the wretch might be just as easily played, and while her deceit relies on painful memories from the past, I do believe that in the end, the realisations I can force unto her might be a lot more damaging than anything she might be able to do to me using only my ghosts._

Clutching onto the hope that this might be true, the brunette alters her game. She reaches up and pulls the blonde down into her; tasting her hungrily. The husky laughter this garners causes her to suspect Emma might believe she has been overcome by lust incited by the past, and she allows the younger woman to remain ignorantly blind. Kissing her first slowly, and then with a needy nip of sharp teeth and sly tongue, she rolls them so that she lies astride pale limbs while silver hair fans out over her pillow. She imagines the Saviour might be an easier target in their current game due to her denial of release thus far, and she plays into this fact readily; cupping slick heat with playful fingers as she bites experimentally at the younger woman's clavicle.

A short gasp in response, and she smirks into the hollow of the blonde's throat.

Playing back the very hand dealt to her, she works slowly and meticulously to alter her touch and her likeness to avoid having Emma detect the subtle change. She thinks back to a morning several weeks ago where the blonde had commented on her chosen perfume appreciatively, and she applies that delicate scent now to her flesh. Allowing her hair to fall softly down to her shoulders without any product holding it back, she renders her dark makeup minimal and more natural; excactly how Regina might wear it when dealing with the false issues arising in her sham of a town. She injects a gentleness to the way she plays with the blonde; a curious sense of familiarity.

Beneath her, Emma's reactions become tellingly clumsy, and the Queen pushes herself up so that she looks down at the younger woman; smiling at her amiably with lips painted dusky cherry rather than striking scarlet. She tucks glossy locks coyly behind her ear as her other hand continues to demand the pleasured hum that escapes gritted teeth. Leaning down to brush softly at the younger woman's parted lips, she watches as dark lashes squeeze shut as the blonde gives in to her pleasure; embracing her tightly as she goes over while hissing one broken word.

"Regina..."

Silence follows, and blown green finds glittering brown warily as the Queen maintains her guise just long enough for the younger woman to take it in entirely, before once more assuming provocative makeup and slicked back tresses.

"Emma."

She replies icily, and the Savoiur swallows as she seems unable to find a comeback for what she has just allowed to happen.

"Never. _Ever_. Touch my things again..."

The brunette warns quietly, snatching the discarded diary from the bed and getting up off of the younger woman.

She looks down at her furiously, her smug glee at playing her recent hand dampened by her rage that the blonde should think it her right to have anything to do with Daniel. She is surprised at the depth of the emotion she feels; having believed sorrow to have been eliminated from her repitoire now no longer tethered to her Storybrooke self. Still, the hate it brings up in her is damning and true, and she flashes her teeth down at the woman on the bed and promises softly

"You've just entered a whole new phase of a game you never wanted to play, Saviour... Bad move."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** _Reviews would be awesome :)_

* * *

 _"...Bad move."_

Anger laces the brunette's words, lending them a venomous rasp, before she makes a movement with her hand- currently in complete control as Emma remains reclined on the bed with her expression pensive and troubled- and banishes the younger woman from her sight. She sends her to one of the rooms upstairs, but isn't particularly bothered precisely where.

 _With any luck, she'll wind up in one of the walls or through the glass of one of the balcony windows._

She smirks at the thought, but it is a halfhearted response at best. She's surprised by the level of melancholic resentment the Saviour's recent play has brought out in her, and as she stalks back towards the bed- towards rumpled sheets that smell faintly of, well, sex- she perches upon them and picks up the diary which lies discarded with its yellow pages furled out in a terrible smile.

 _You will pay for that, you wretch. Mark my words, you will pay for it._

She sighs bitterly, before hurling a compact burst of blue fire towards the heavy velvet curtains; watching the dusky material burn bright with her fury, before dampening the flames with the closing of her fist.

"Bitch."

She spits for what feels the hundredth time since finding herself trapped here with the wicked woman, and she pushes herself back off the bed in order to pace the room. She does so bare- her body tight against the evening chill- before coming to a halt in front of the ornate bureau beside the window. Studying the whorls set within dark wood thoughtfully, she eventually opens it up by pressing her thumb against a small amethyst centred in the top panel.

* * *

Curling up with a groan, Emma eventually rolls onto her back with her hand going up to her head to check for damage. She has landed on the stone floor of some unknown room with enough force to send her skidding and crashing into the end post of a large, canopied bed; seemingly _thrust_ here by the Queen rather than simply rematerialising as she has in the past.

"Ow."

She grunts, pushing herself up with a wince as her tailbone twinges miserably at the movement. She feels a little rattled after her less than graceful entrance to god knows where, but she can't help but feel the brutality of the Queen's magic is telling for just how well she has succeeded in getting under her skin.

"Totally deserved it."

She mutters as she staggers to her feet. In doing so, she catches sight of herself in a large, brass framed mirror that rests on a set of grand, curled feet.

"Fuck..."

It comes out as a low, but not entirely unimpressed breath as she studies herself in the glass. Her recent collision with the floor has left her with several more scrapes to add to her collection, and when she takes a step closer, she is able to make out the imprint of the brunette's teeth on either side of the sharp slice of her clavicle.

"At least _try_ to keep me in one piece, Your Majesty, otherwise where's the fun?"

She muses quietly, but she does so with a grin; never having been one to get upset about marks and scratches save for those that hinder her ability to do anything she might wish to. Still, her feeling of victory is fragile, and it soon fades to a dull buzz as she stares down her reflection with a frown. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurs to her that the Queen has shown evidence that she should treat the glass with caution, but she doesn't think that the darker woman will wish to watch her with Daniel so fresh on her mind.

"After that small trick."

She murmurs, and her mind replies dubiously

 _She tricked you, too._

She thins her lips at this unwelcome fact and tries to brush it off.

 _She did, but what of it? We've established by now that my... Whatever it is with Regina, isn't totally without its peculiar moments of... I don't even know what you'd call it._

 _You do so..._

 _Attraction._

 _She's attractive._

 _Is that so strange? Is that so wrong for me to think that? Of course not. She looks after herself, and she's damned good at it... And I have_ eyes.

 _I'm not the_ first _person to look at their friend and suffer certain... Thoughts._

 _I did it plenty_ before _Regina- did it, acted on it- so why should it be a problem_ now _?_

 _It isn't._

She nods as though to confirm this to herself, but she isn't quite able to push her discomfort aside. After all, since the Queen gate crashed her life, she's recently found herself happy enough to accept her appeal so long as she keeps the idea of Regina- _her_ Regina- separate. What just happened in the darker woman's bedroom had blurred that line, just as the Queen had intended it to, and Emma swallows uncomfortably as she is plagued by the feel, the scent, the sound of the brunette- _her_ version of the brunette- moving on top of her.

Kissing her.

Fucking her.

"It was only a trick... Not the end of the world."

No, of course not, but as she looks around the room uncomfortably with her arms crossed tightly over the bare expanse of her stomach, she narrows her eyes as they happen upon the curved ends of the curtain poles. Silver curves. Hooks.

"Leave it."

She warns her busy mind sternly, but it remains as contrary as ever and takes no notice; throwing her head first into comparisons she really doesn't feel it's wise to be making. Nevertheless, she is helpless to stop her train of thought once it starts, and it gains momentum swiftly, leaving her biting her lip as she tries to remember the last time she'd come undone so completely- dizzyingly- with Hook and coming up short.

 _Well, that's an easy one, Swan, and not worth getting all tied up over; you enjoy the game, the danger, the silent dance of battling for dominance, and your current little situation is_ rife _with all those things... That's all there is to it._

Maybe, but that hardly sets her mind at ease. After all, she and Hook get on well, they had been friends- confidents- once she'd allowed herself to trust him, and she supposes she still somewhat seems him first and foremost as her partner in crime. She's even shared this title with him, and it had been well received... They're good together.

 _Only..._

Only she is uncomfortably aware after analysing her wants- her weaknesses- that every part of her relationship with the _Mayor_ plays into her perversions. They may well be friends now, but the undercurrent of toying with each other still remains.

 _And I've never attempted to_ do _anything about it- to fix it, or talk to her about it- because I liked it._

 _Hell, how I liked it._

She closes her eyes, but it's too late and she pulls a guilty grimace as she recalls the last time she came completely- dizzyingly- undone after all.

It had been up against the wall of the shed, and it had been entirely at her whim and command. She'd practically sent Hook falling _through_ one of the old chests left in there by previous occupants. They'd had to be quick because she was already running late for dinner with her parents, but it had seemed a necessary evil just the same, and she'd only been running late because...

 _... Because I'd spent the morning helping Regina with some paperwork and sniping back at her 'secretary' comments with as good as she dished out._

 _Better, even._

 _When I left she was blushing- I took that as a win._

"Oh, shit."

She grumbles now, tearing her gaze from the curtain pole with a roll of her eyes as her hands find her bare hips moodily. Still, she tells herself she can't dwell on problematic discoveries, and that none of the mess in her head matters anyway.

 _I think Regina's experimental side might have parted ways with her along with the Queen, and in spite of several moments of pathetic inner turmoil recently, reminiscing_ _on_ possible _shared glances and heated exchanges, the likelihood of Madame Mayor_ actually _entertaining the idea of letting you anywhere near her is safely nil._

"I imagine she'd recoil at the very thought; probably even be slightly insulted at the idea."

She grins, but it is an uneasy expression as her mind shoots back exasperatedly

 _She'd never_ have _the thought! All of this is entirely moot! You got played, Swan, and now you're doing exactly what the Queen_ wants _you to be doing and second guessing complete make-believe._

 _She isn't Regina. Not_ your _version. She's a messed up piece of work that's delighting in your misery, and because you yourself are_ also _a messed up piece of work with something not wired quite right in your head; you kind of_ like _it. She wants to fuck_ with _you_ by _fucking you, and you're stood here worrying about emotions and feelings like they're running the show all of a sudden. Push them out, push them away, and play your hand._

She raises her jaw resolutely and stalks over to the wardrobe in the corner. Pulling open heavy wood, she rifles through the fussily embellished garments inside. None are to her liking and none look even close to being her size, and so she turns back to the mirror with her hands on her hips and her brow raised.

She wants all thoughts of Regina- her Regina- gone. She wants to go back to the dark and highly debauched playing field she'd first resented but had finally found a taste for down in the dungeon.

She wants to play with the Queen.

Goad the Queen.

Demand lust and punishment completely foreign to the familiar, almost _amiable_ masquerade played out to her dismay in the Queen's bedroom.

 _She's angry with you- furious with you for bringing Daniel into this- and maybe that's just what you need... Let her play out her threat._

 _Remind yourself who she truly is._

 _And who she_ isn't.

Flicking her wrist, she once more encases her pale frame in tight leather, before storming out of the door; searching for a rough solution to the unease in her mind.

* * *

Locking the blonde's front door behind her, Regina turns to face Lily who stands at the bottom of the steps with her hands shoved deep inside the pockets of her coat.

"I can't think what else there is to be gained from staying around here... I received a message from Mr Gold a while ago... I'm beginning to think it might have something to do with all of this. You don't have to come with me to see him, but I want you to know that's where I'm going... I _also_ want you to know that what you said upstairs... I've taken it in. I hadn't thought about some things the way I should have. I _definitely_ hadn't thought about how I can sometimes be quick to blame Emma and how awful it really is to do so given... Given everything."

"What do you want? A medal?"

"No. I just want you to know where I'm going and who I'm going to see."

"...Why?"

"Because, as much as you don't trust me, I'm not the _only_ one who had a hand in the curse and everything we've discussed. If I don't figure out what's happened to Emma by tomorrow evening, I guess I will _have_ to go to her parents, because not doing so seems irresponsible. I'm still hoping that this is all a big misunderstanding however, and that Miss Swan is fine. _If_ she isn't though, and _if_ something is going on... Gold's offer to involve himself isn't always a blessing. I've made a habit of checking in with Emma, and she with myself, when dealing with Rumple, and in the face of what might be going on right now, I would sooner someone know what it is I mean to do in case anything... Happens."

"Wait, are you telling me that you're _scared_?"

Lily frowns, although her tone carries no discernible touch of sympathy should this be the case.

"No. I simply want you to know what I'm doing."

Regina replies primly as she makes her way down the steps and onto the worn path that winds towards the road; stones gleaming wetly beneath the moon.

"...I'll go with you."

Lily proposes eventually, falling stiffly in stride beside the Mayor, and Regina raises a brow as she studies her pensively.

"Because you don't trust Gold, or because you don't trust _me_?"

"I have little time for _either_ of you... But you said you're used to checking in with Emma before doing something like this, and I know that kind of thing is important. I've learnt that lesson a dozen times over... She would think badly of me for letting you go off on your own to do something you wanted back up with. _She's_ the one who got the lesson to check in and watch out for each other to finally stick in the first place."

"Is that so?"

"Yes... I learnt it too late. I let her down. Again. She walked out of my life, and that time she stayed out of it for about fifteen years... And, as you saw, she came back _into_ it holding a gun to my head."

"... That will do it."

"Yeah."

Lily sighs, before looking up sharply as a figure approaches them through the darkness.

"Hello..."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** _Sorry for the wait! I know I keep promising that changes to plans and schedule should mean more frequent updates, but life is really an unruly bitch at times! I hope you're still with me for this one, and that you enjoy this update :) I will try and add another chapter to this fic next as I'm excited to continue where this leaves off, but I won't make promises I can't keep and say exactly when this will happen, apart from SOON! Thank you, as always, for reading, and any reviews would make my weekend 1000 times better as I plod on into the thankless void of non-fanfic writing :/_

* * *

"Hello..."

Hook greets cautiously as he rounds the corner to find the two women standing outside the house. Regina gives him a curt nod in response, while Lily simply regards him stoically. It's something he supposes he should be used to by now, but the cold disinterest of her stare still unnerves him after all this time. He finds it strange when Emma tells him about the laughs and fun they've shared after the two of them have spent time together- struggling to picture Lily partaking in either laughs _or_ fun- but he supposes he'd had a similar impression of Emma when they had first been acquainted, and that it had taken quite some time to get through her often icy exterior.

"Were you here to see Emma?"

He asks, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs to stand in front of them, although he supposes this constitutes a somewhat wasted question, as he doubts either Lily or the Mayor are here looking for _him_.

"She's out."

Regina replies with a curiously guarded expression, and Hook sighs as he pulls his phone from his pocket and checks his messages. He spies one from Henry and another from Will Scarlett, but none from the blonde, which- while not all that unusual- frustrates him. After all, how many times has he told Emma that she needs to get a better handle of letting him know what she's up to? He's lost count. And, it's not as though he's requested it to piss her _off-_ as her response so often suggests- but rather simply so that he can make his _own_ plans.

So far, she hasn't seemed to see things his way, and even a small question, like if she might be around for dinner, can occasionally spark a venomous side to the blonde that he isn't entirely sure how to deal with.

 _Should ask Regina. She seems to have a whole_ bag _of tricks when it comes to Emma..._

The thought curdles in his mind as he regards the brunette bitterly. One on one, he has no qualms with Regina, as she has proven several times now that she can be trusted when it comes to picking a side to fight for, and she has dialled back the arrogant airs of grandeur she had once favoured so dearly. What _bothers_ him is the way she behaves when around Emma.

 _And the way Swan behaves in return._

The two have formed a curious camaraderie out of the ashes of their previous rivalry, and while it has often served the town well to have the women working side by side, it has presented a frequent topic of argument between he and Emma when alone. He knows that this is mostly _his_ fault, as it is he that will inevitably bring up the subject, but it just _bothers_ him how the blonde can behave around the woman who had once sworn to ruin her. She listens to Regina, she confides in her, and while she will do the same to him, she doesn't do so as vulnerably as he has seen her do when talking to the brunette. Emma doesn't just _let_ the Mayor in, she _invites_ her in, and in his eyes, Regina oversteps that proverbial welcome at times.

 _Sometimes, those two seem just a little too close for comfort._

"Do you know where she is?"

He asks, and the Mayor shakes her head with a sigh as Lily points out woodenly

"We wouldn't have come here _looking_ for her if we did."

"No. I guess not... Did you want me to pass on a message?"

He asks uncomfortably, and Regina shakes her head again while Lily merely shrugs.

"No, we weren't here for anything urgent."

The Mayor replies, but she and the younger woman share a brief glance, before the latter turns pointedly towards the road. Sighing, Hook shoves his hand into the pocket of his jacket as he glares up at dark windows before falling into step beside Regina as she stalks a couple of paces behind Lily. He catches her watching him out of the corner of her eye, and calls out her curiosity gruffly

"What's up?"

"Nothing... I presumed you were planning to wait for Emma to get home."

"In _this_ weather? I'll wait for her to get hold of me, I think... Provided she even remembers _how._ "

The brunette thins her lips at the petulance in the pirate's tone and adopts a frown.

"I wasn't suggesting that you sit out on her porch steps like a disgraced dog..."

"Then what _were_ you suggesting? The spare key she keeps hidden in that rock pile only opens the shed."

"Wait? You don't have a _key_?"

Lily interrupts from up front, and she glances over her shoulder to study the others with her brow furrowed.

"How is it _you_ don't have Swan's key, yet _she_ does?

She asks, jerking her thumb at Regina, and she raises an eyebrow as both Hook and the brunette appear perturbed and flustered by her enquiry.

"Good question..."

Killian muses sourly beneath his breath, and Regina rolls her eyes as she points out, yet again

"They're _Henry's_ keys, I'm only borrowing them!"

"Why?"

Hook turns to her to ask, and there's an irritation in his tone that the Mayor matches easily as she snaps back

"I just had them on me-"

She lies, before continuing waspishly

"-It's not a big deal. Don't forget, in a true bind, I wouldn't even _need_ keys..."

"That's true."

Lily muses unhelpfully, and Regina sighs as she isn't entirely sure just why she feels so angry.

 _Because you're tired of the same old argument... You're tired of Hook insinuating that Miss Swan allows more of herself to you than to him..._

 _After all... It's not like you can tell him he's_ right. _It would be improper._

Dark eyes flashing as she mulls over this truth, Regina breathes a sigh of relief when they reach the intersection into town and the pirate turns with a grunt for the Rabbit Hole, while she and Lily take a left past Granny's.

"...He doesn't like you."

Lily broaches to break the silence, and Regina glances over at her and adopts a wary expression.

"Mmm."

Is all she offers in response; not in the mood to discuss the matter further, nor sure how to explain that she doesn't believe Hook's issues are quite so straight forward.

"Is the feeling mutual?"

Lily pushes, and Regina sighs as she slips her hands into the warmth of her coat and shakes her head.

"I don't think there's a feeling strong enough from _either_ of us to be considered dislike..."

"That's Mayor speak."

"No, it's simply the truth."

"So what _do_ you think of Hook?"

The younger woman demands brazenly, and Regina stiffens a little, but she replies honestly

"I think he means well and has turned his attitude around remarkably since I knew him back in the Enchanted Forest... But, I occasionally fail to approve of Emma's choice in _dating_ him..."

"You know she'd be pretty mad about that wording, right? About you using the word 'approval' and all, like she _needs_ that from you."

"I just... Let's please not start all that again... I didn't mean she _did,_ or to imply anything of the sort. Is that something _else_ you're going to hold against me now?"

"No. It was just an observation... Incindentally, I completely agree."

"How so?"

"She could do better."

"Hmm... Have you told her so?"

"Of course not... I'm not an _idiot_."

Lily rolls her eyes, before shrugging slim shoulders clad in cheap leather.

"... Emma wouldn't want to know my true thoughts on the matter."

She finishes cryptically, and Regina studies her out of the corner of her eye as she mulls this statement over pensively.

* * *

"Regina!"

Emma barks as she storms into the brunette's room to find the latter bent over her dresser with something in her hand. She wishes that there was another way in which to address the Queen, but she refuses to consider calling the evil bitch Her Majesty- or anything equally repulsive- when not doing so as a means to taunt her. The brunette looks back at her over her shoulder with her eyes narrowed hatefully, before she turns around while slipping something into the pocket of the coat she has reclaimed in the younger woman's absence.

"Do you really think it's _wise_ coming back here after what you did, Saviour?"

She demands, and the blonde raises her jaw defiantly as she counters back

"That really got to you, huh?"

She knows she's playing with fire, and the flash of the brunette's teeth confirms this, but then, of course, that's precisely what she'd set out to do. She meets the Queen's poinsonous glower easily and dares her to make a move. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides as she remains thrown by her revelation- while studying a fucking _curtain pole_ of all things- and she anticipates the retribution that flickers in dark coals eagerly; reminding herself sternly that it has been a long time- an _era_ \- since she last received such a look from Regina.

 _Her_ Regina.

"I'll admit, I was surprised... I have called you thusly countless times, but never has it rung more true; you're a _bitch_."

The Queen spits, and the blonde shrugs carelessly to add further insult to injury.

"You asked for it."

She reminds the brunette, knowing her words are true in more ways than one, but it seems that this does little to console the darker woman as her lip curls furiously.

"You'll pay."

The Queen warns, and the blonde offers a small smile in return; keeping the fact that she's counting on it to herself.

This smug expression has the desired effect, and the brunette snarls angrily as she flies at the younger woman; pushing her roughly onto the bed and pinning her down as she lands forcefully astride narrow hips. Her hand goes to the blonde's throat as it has done several times since they've become acquainted, but for the first time, she doesn't just close her fingers warningly, she proceeds to squeeze without pretence. The flash of fear she anticipates doesn't come, as cool glass simply glitters back at her alight with feverish excitement, and she punishes this lack of terror angrily with a harsh slap to the blonde's face. Finally, this garners her a low growl of irritation which she relishes victoriously; slipping her hand into her coat pocket and pulling out the vial obtained from the hidden depths of her dresser. Taking the cork out with her teeth, she spits it away impatiently and tips the thick silver liquid inside between her lips. Looking down at the blonde who watches her uncertainly- her cheek marked with a scarlet handprint- she leans in and kisses her dominantly; allowing the curiously cool concoction to slip from her tongue onto Emma's. Understanding the Queen's ploy, the younger woman attempts to wrestle her off frantically; striving to keep from swallowing any of the strange substance the brunette has drugged her with, but she'd not been expecting this sly move- having thought the Queen had taken the drink for herself- and it's too little too late as her throat burns with the bitter sting of magic.

"What did you _do_?"

She coughs when the Queen pushes herself back up to study her shrewdly, and full lips spread into a salacious smile as the darker woman wipes away a trail of spilt silver that glistens down the blonde's jaw with a gentleness that is baiting rather than kind.

"Hush now, take a second to catch your breath, dear."

She coos sweetly, and Emma glares up at her as her throat works nervously.

"Was that _poison_?"

She demands, and the Queen notes with a hint of intrigue that it is not fear that alights the younger woman's eyes, but rage.

"No, not poison, Savoiur... I'm not done with you yet."

She smiles, and the blonde recoils from that wicked flash of teeth as best she can while pinned to the bed.

"Then _what_?"

She snaps, and the darker woman shakes her head once more as she pushes herself up off the mattress and stands surveying Emma with her hands resting on her hips.

"That will soon become clear."

She replies cryptically, and she points over to the highbacked chair that stands as a sentinel next to her floor length mirror and demands

"Sit. Go on, now."

Emma looks up at her silently for a moment, waiting to see if her limbs will somehow comply with the darker woman's order without her bidding, but she remains in momentary control of her body, save for the familiar thrum of the Queen's magic that keeps her from using her own power to claim the upper hand.

"...What did you do?"

She asks again, and now she _does_ feel an unseen hand pull her towards the chair, but it is a sensation she has felt before, and she knows it's the brunette that's behind this invisible violation of her will, and not the silver substance that still feels sickly on her tongue. Giving in to the Queen's magic before she loses all control entirely, she slides from the bed reluctantly and stalks towards the chair. Once seated, the darker woman closes in on her, standing over her with her finger pressed thoughtfully to her lips which spread out into a cruel smirk.

"Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** _As promised- part 2. Hope you enjoy, and please review! :D_

* * *

 _"Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin."_

The Queen states quietly, and Emma glowers up at her with her hands gripping the wooden armrests of the chair uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?"

She asks, but she is offered no answer as the brunette simply studies her raptly, before turning the tables with her own curious enquiry.

"What's your name?"

She asks, and the younger woman's brow furrows as she replies uncertainly

"Emma..."

"Your full name."

The brunette insists, and green eyes glitter back at her warily as the Sheriff is certain that there is more to this strange- and seemingly pointless- back and forth, and waits dubiously for the punch line.

"Emma Swan."

"Is that your given name?"

"No..."

The blonde replies, frowning deeper as what comes next seems to escape her lips without her consent.

"My given name is Emma. I appropriated the name Swan by choice as a child. I was given no last name."

"I see."

The Queen nods, enjoying the look of confusion that finds pale features; momentarily erasing all traces of darkness from the Saviour's face and rendering her once more familiar. Once more the uncertain, less than sure of herself young woman she had been when she'd first come to Storybrooke. She'd tried to _hide_ it of course, but the Queen remembers many occasions when stuck in her old body, where Regina would push all the right buttons and play her hand, to leave Emma looking just as nakedly uncomfortable as she does now.

 _Nakedly uncomfortable... Well, that literal display_ also _lived up expectation._

"What's your profession?"

She continues, and the younger woman answers her without missing a beat, although her lips have formed an uneasy curve as she studies her captor distrustfully.

"Sheriff."

"Are you good at your job?"

"No worse than could be expected given the circumstances."

"And what circumstances are those?"

"The job was never real. Not really. It was part of Regina's original lie. I've done my best to uphold at least _some_ of the expectations proposed by the title recently, as my initial objective is no longer relevant."

"What was your initial objective?"

"To piss Regina off."

"I thought it was to provide Henry a positive role model?'

The Queen muses, and Emma frowns as she means to tell the brunette that she'd _meant_ to say that as of _course_ that's why she did it, but the words that tumble out of her mouth beg to differ.

"That was part of it, but not all of it. Not even _most_ of it... I wanted to beat her."

The blonde confides, before biting her lip uncomfortably as though to keep any further revelations trapped inside. Regarding the darker woman nervously, she asks her in a quiet voice

"What did you give me?"

"Never you mind."

The Queen shakes her head with a small smile, leaning in and addressing Emma with her nose only an inch from the Saviour's own.

"Why was that so important to you? To best Regina?"

"She thought she held the winning hand, and she was arrogant with it. She made my life hell and I wanted to return the favour."

Emma snarls, and the darker woman smirks as she muses upon this last answer, before asking quietly

"And now? What do you think of Regina _now_?"

Silence follows as the blonde grits her teeth, trying desperately to keep from answering. It is a topic they have covered several times already, but the Queen is curious to know how it might be answered now that Emma has no option but to answer truthfully.

After all, the serum she's swallowed makes it impossible for her to do anything else.

"She's... She's my best friend."

The younger woman replies finally, the words seeming to force their way past the clenched barrier of her teeth, and she eyes the brunette reproachfully, but not without a hint of surprise, as she has never gotten around to fully confirming this fact to herself. The Queen looks similarly taken aback; arching a cruel brow as she studies the Sheriff intently.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. So? What of it?"

Emma growls, pointing out irritably

"It's not all _that_ weird. We've been through a lot together."

"I suppose you have."

The brunette agrees silkily, and she catches a ripple at the blonde's throat as she appears highly uncomfortable in her current predicament.

 _Good._

"Why are you asking me all this?"

Emma hisses, glaring up into dark coals that glitter with promise, and she shifts in her seat restlessly. She had come here hoping that the Queen might show her some of the roughness she had down in the dungeon; hoping for release and a firm reminder that she plays with evil, and not the altogether more confusing version of the brunette back home.

"I wanted to know."

The darker woman shrugs, before pushing back heavy curls with her fingers spread out within cornsilk tangles; pushing Emma's head back so that she is forced to meet her deviant stare.

"What _else_ do you think about Regina? What do you think about her that you don't want others- the pirate- to know?"

"...I think things that I shouldn't. I think about what I might like to do to her, not all the time, but sometimes. Sometimes I think about it too much."

"And what is it, dear? What is it you'd like to do to her?"

"Fuck her."

Emma replies, with a curious wince as the words come out, and she shakes her head as though to try and disagree with her own admission.

"Yes? I believe you mentioned you'd pictured a scenario- _several_ scenarios- while lying beside the pirate... What about when lying beneath him?"

"Regina..."

"Yes, dear, _Regina_ , do you think of her when allowing that buffoon inside you?"

The Queen pushes on, laughing maliciously when Emma cringes away from her and wrinkles her nose in response, while knowing it will do the younger woman no good.

"Several times."

The blonde chokes out, and when the darker woman grins and leans in to dig deeper, she shakes her head again; willing the Queen to desist in her dangerous line of enquiry.

Needless to say, her wishes go cordially ignored.

"Did it help? Did you find your release?"

"Quickly."

"Wonderful!"

The Queen cries as she relishes the scarlet blush that paints pale cheeks, and she stalks over to the bed and takes a seat; regarding the Sheriff with a wicked smile as she primps her hair.

"Did you feel guilty afterwards?"

"...No."

"No?"

She raises a brow curiously, studying Emma with her finger held to full lips.

"No... I liked thinking about her that way. I knew it was a bad idea, but at the time, while still feeling good, I wouldn't get too caught up in beating myself up over it. I'd just be agitated the next day."

"How so?"

"Because, Regina would inevitably come and find me at some point to shoot the shit, and I'd think about how I was ruining our friendship by thinking of her the way I was."

"Interesting... You seemed _uncertain_ when I pulled your admission that you might view her inappropriately out from you back in Storybrooke."

The Queen muses, and Emma tosses back long curls as she replies honestly

"I _was_ uncertain. I don't make a habit of analysing my baser desires or thoughts, and your trickery asked that of me. You wanted me to admit whether or not I felt something between us, and that's not the same thing as asking me if I sometimes use her- your- likeness to speed along my pleasure."

"Hmm, you word it _almost_ as though you have trouble relieving tension when faced with Hook alone."

"I get bored easily."

The younger woman replies tersely, and she simmers as the brunette waits for her continue; not enjoying this act of gross divulgence in the slightest.

 _This isn't what I came here for. I came here so she could let me have it... So she could punish me._

 _And she is._

 _Just not in a way I'd like..._

Sighing, Emma elaborates sourly

"I like Hook, and the sex is fine. Sometimes it's great and sometimes it's not... His reactions suggest his own enjoyment is a little less fickle."

"You need more."

"Yes."

The blonde replies simply, and the Queen nods as she enjoys the irritable look the younger woman throws her, and she goes back to the topic they had touched upon briefly back in the dungeon; leaning forwards to expose ample cleavage, and asking the Sheriff curiously

"You said you'd done this before... Stood bent over against the wall for me. You said it wasn't your first time."

"It wasn't."

"You've had girlfriends?"

"No."

"But you've had lovers..."

"Yes."

"Many?"

"Three."

"How did that come about?"

"The same way anything comes about..."

The blonde frowns, and the Queen sighs as she alters her wording to pull an answer from the younger woman that she is unable to resist.

"Your first experience with a woman, how did it come about? What happened?"

"It was a girl I knew. Evie. I knew her through a mutual friend. She was dating him, actually... I liked her, and we were all out at this carnival; one of those travelling shows that sets up and leaves. They had a kissing booth, and I made some kind of comment- I don't remember what- and rather than roll her eyes or seem weirded out by it, she gave me _another_ kind of look... A daring look, I guess. Anyway, there was this horror house ride where you sat in a little cart on a track and it took you around this pitch black house where images and mechanical things would flash and thrust out to give you a scare. It was kind of lame, and the cart moved so slowly it put my teeth on edge. Then, all of a sudden, Evie's got a hold of my hand and she's pulling me out, into the darkness, and I'm following her with my other hand held out in front of me so I don't smack into a wall or a piece of scaffolding. We found a corner, and I wasn't entirely sure what she might want from me, but I hoped it was something like what ended up happening."

"And what was that?"

"She kissed me. Not the way I'd kissed girls in the past as part of a game or a dare, or because we'd each had too much to drink. She kissed me in way that made me think there was more to come, and I was right. She grabbed my hand in hers again and pulled it into her, guiding it down the front of her top so that I wouldn't spend any time doubting the situation... That was good, because I do that sometimes, I get in my head."

"You surprise me."

The Queen mocks with a roll of her eyes, and when Emma glowers at her, she makes a motion with her hand that the blonde should continue. Of course, the veritae serum only works to make the consumer incapable of lying, but the intensity of her stare does the rest. She is also aware that the younger woman appears more comfortable telling her current tale than she had been when asked to answer questions about the Mayor and Hook, and she makes a note to swing the conversation back to a topic that will really make the bitch squirm.

 _Still, the control is nice... After what she did._

"I felt her up. I hate that term of phrase, but it's accurate for what happened. I was curious, as well as turned on."

"How turned on?"

"Very."

"Were you wet?"

The Queen asks, and she watches green eyes lower as this seems to be _another_ term of phrase Emma is less fond of, and she can tell that the younger woman yearns to answer her with sarcasm and insolence, but she is stuck only with the truth.

"Yes."

"What then?"

"She put her hand up my skirt, pulling aside my underwear. It wasn't great what she was doing- I've had much better- but it was exciting. I think part of that was the dark and the fear in the back of my head that the lights might get switched on or something."

"The thought of getting caught excited you?"

"... Yes."

"Have you ever been caught?"

"Yes, but not then."

"And it still serves as a turn on, as you call it?"

"... Yes."

"You surprise me."

The Queen repeats her previous statement, but this time without the heavy dose of sarcasm, and when Emma eyes her uncertainly, she shrugs and adjusts her position on the bed so that she leans back against the support of her palms, displaying herself appetisingly.

"You're a private person, I know that much all too well."

"Maybe that's part of it."

The blonde suggests, and when the darker woman raises a brow in a bid for an explanation, the younger woman concedes without being coerced.

"I'm not a psychologist by any means, I actually have very little time for all that junk, but I do have a theory, and I don't think I'm alone in it. I think it happens more often that people's kinks clash with their personality. It's like how terribly shy girls make the best dominatrixes."

"That is... A curious little piece of knowledge to have, Saviour... I suppose it's a _little_ like how one who so often feels the need to claw and fight her way to the top may be perfectly content to lie submissive when it comes to pleasure."

The Queen suggests with a small smirk, referring to the blonde's unfortunate position on the dungeon floor, and Emma takes the bait lazily and reminds the brunette

"I told you, I gave you that one."

"That doesn't render my statement false."

"... No."

The younger woman agrees, eyes flickering as the Queen rearranges her crossed legs, and the latter grins at her knowingly.

"So, how did it end, your tryst in the dark with that girl?"

"She got on her knees and I saw stars. Again, more due to the situation than her skillset."

Emma finishes off, and the brunette laughs huskily as, while she knows the blonde has no choice but to answer honestly, the pragmatic approach the younger woman will sometimes take doesn't fail to tickle her, just as it had done Regina back when they had been one.

"As titillating a tale as that _was_ , dear, it _hardly_ paints the same picture as being forced up against a wall and being taken advantage of..."

"I said there were three."

Emma replies silkily, and the Queen nods as she drinks in pale features with ever greater intrigue, but she is done demanding stories from the wretch as it seems tales from long ago don't render the blonde a squirming mess as she'd hoped they might. Pushing herself up off the bed, she stalks over so that she stands once more leant over the younger woman with her nose an inch from the blonde's.

"You know, it's funny, Saviour. I had wondered at first if your reluctance to play my game was due to the sapphic element of giving in to what we both now know were obvious desires. But that's _not_ it, is it, dear? I don't even believe it's down to your relationship with the pirate... What I think it comes _down_ to is your fear of allowing yourself something you've deemed forbidden-"

"-That's never stopped me before."

Emma interrupts, her expression hard and her statement honest, and she bites at her lip as the Queen wets her own.

"...No, because I would bet that in _previous_ situations, you've been the prize. You've known it was so."

"I don't know what you mean..."

"No? Well, I suppose I _must_ believe you when you say so under these current circumstances, but I _am_ surprised, dear. For a relatively smart woman, you can really be astonishingly _stupid_ at times... I have high standards, yet I clearly find you somewhat interesting and desirable, else we'd be done with all this by now. Most people do not possess the fine taste that I have, and so I would presume they might find you even more impressive... You know, don't you, dear, that whatever you might want, at least in a carnal sense, you can most likely _have_... Am I wrong?"

"... No. I know."

The blonde agrees, blushing slightly, but raising her jaw just the same and offering the Queen a cool stare.

"But with Regina, that's not the case, is it? With Regina you're not sure whether your darker urges would be appreciated, and that makes you uncomfortable. It makes you feel small."

"I never allowed myself to analyse my thoughts about it too deeply, I _told_ you."

Emma replies through gritted teeth, wanting to tell the darker woman that she's wrong- _so_ wrong- but unable to lie, and thus forced to accept the truth for herself. The brunette smiles in response; an unkind smile that gives her a predatory edge.

"You look uncomfortable, Saviour... You answered my questions about your little fairground dalliance with barely a stutter, yet I ask you something comparatively simple about Regina and you can't quite keep your voice steady... You don't _like_ when I ask you about her, do you? About me, about her... About any of this?"

The Queen demands, pulling at the binding to her corset to allow it to fall open a little; displaying yet more flesh as she stands over the blonde.

"No."

Emma replies, trying to look away, and the brunette finds her jaw with cruel fingers and forces her to maintain eye contact.

"You keep reminding me that I am not _your_ version of Regina, but you're struggling, aren't you, dear? After all, we're _identical_ , and all motives aside, our mannerisms are the same. Yes, you may not wish to share a morning drinking _coffee_ with myself, but that's not what's on _offer,_ is it? What's on _offer_ is what you want, and I felt it, dear, I felt you shiver so wantonly beneath me while you were picturing me not as the Queen, not as your rival, but as _Regina_. You're confused... Conflicted... Tell me, why did you come to seek me out when you must have _known_ I'd be out for revenge?"

"... I wanted you to fuck me. As the Queen. As the _Evil_ Queen. I wanted you to hurt me and treat me the way you did back in Storybrooke. I wanted to remind myself that you're not her, you're _not_ Regina, because you're right; I do fear the way I've been feeling about her recently."

The blonde is forced to admit, and she narrows her eyes dangerously as the darker woman smirks down at her.

"You don't like to feel foolish, do you, Saviour?"

She purrs, and the younger woman rolls her eyes, but her lips spill out the simple truth.

"No."

"No... And, really, who could blame you? I don't suppose _many_ people appreciate feeling foolish, feeling small, but for you, it's so much _more_ than just an aversion. You hate it... Oh, I could ask you why. I could ask all _sorts_ of things about your past, and events that might have led to you being the way that you are. At a guess, I would say you've had your hopes up too many times only for them to be disastrously shot down. Potential foster parents pulling out. Children at school playing nice before finding out that you weren't like them, you weren't _one_ of them. Scenario after scenario of allowing yourself to be vulnerable and paying for it dearly... Feeling the fool is an all encompassing ordeal for you, Saviour, and the _one_ thing you will do everything in your power to avoid... What's wrong, dear, you look uncomfortable?"

The brunette widens her eyes with false concern as Emma shows her teeth in a primal display of rage; unable to tell the bitch that she's wrong, and unable to pull away without conceding defeat.

"You came here looking for some sense of closure; some way to put your busy mind at ease... But where's the _fun_ in that?"

The darker woman muses coyly, and she closes her eyes as she once more adopts a softer guise; smiling down at the Sheriff with bright eyes no longer heavy with makeup and lips no longer painted harsh scarlet.

"Better?"

She asks sweetly, and the younger woman lowers her eyes as she hisses angrily

"No."

"Oh... That's not very nice."

The Queen sighs, adopting a hurt expression as her fingers move from the blonde's jaw to her hair and play through messy curls gently. Her face is kind without the theatrical darkness adorned by the Queen, and her own hair hangs soft and natural down to her shoulders. Still, she remains clad in sinful leather partially released, and Emma swallows as this is somehow worse. Worse than when the brunette had played this hand wearing nothing but a smile.

"Stop this."

She pleads quietly, but she knows it will do her no good.

"Oh, I don't think so..."

The brunette shakes her head, before moving with careful consideration of the chair's armrests so that she sits astride the younger woman's lap, regarding her patiently- almost affectionately- while inwardly relishing the way Emma seems suddenly incapable of looking at her.

"What do you want, Emma?"

"For you to _stop_ this."

The blonde replies honestly, but the Queen smiles as she knows all it takes to play the game her way is sparing a little more thought to how she choses to word things.

"You and I _both_ know that's not on the cards, dear, so answer me this; what do you want me to do to you? Sat on your lap as I am."

"I want you to g-get off."

"Hmm... Maybe so, but that's not _all_ , is it. Do you want me to kiss you?"

The Queen asks quietly, and she can see a battle playing out across the blonde's face. She knows that both 'yes' _and_ 'no' constitute honest answers, but one carries just a little more truth, and she smirks when the younger woman replies through a clenched jaw

"Yes."

"See... Not so hard."

She replies softly, leaning in and capturing the blonde's lips gently before applying a little more passion into her kiss. Still, she keeps it affectionate rather than dominant, refusing to give Emma even a hint of reprieve.

"What about my hands? What do you want me to do with my hands?"

"... Touch me."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

"So demanding."

The brunette smirks as she complies; delving one hand into thick curls while the other drags salaciously up the younger woman's stomach, before dipping down between leather clad legs.

"Do you want me to take these off?"

She whispers against parted lips; tracing her nails roughly over the dark material, and the younger blonde shakes her head as she grips the armrests tightly, but replies

"Yes."

"Yes, I can well imagine. Not the comfiest choice of wardrobe, although I do appreciate what you were going for, dear."

The brunette muses with a conspiring grin, much as Regina will often throw Emma when the two bicker with one another and toss out barbs with the silent hope they will be dealt back in kind. She wrestles with tight leather for a moment, before simply flicking her wrist and rendering the blonde bare; garnering herself a small yelp of surprise.

"Better?"

She asks again, and Emma looks away as she mutters

"Yes."

"So? What did you want me to do, dear? What would you like from me?

She asks, taking care to keep everything about herself redolent of the Mayor. Careful to rub in the fact that for all intents and purposes, Emma plays with _her_ version of the brunette as the line between them has become lost and complicated.

"Taste me."

The younger woman replies in little more than a whisper, and the Queen nips her lip wickedly as she teases

"You want another kiss?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Get... Get on your knees."

"You want me to taste you where I shouldn't?... Where maybe you've imagined me tasting while sat in my office, Miss Swan?"

"... Yes..."

Emma agrees, closing her eyes, and the brunette grins as she slides down between slender legs and pushes them further apart.

"How badly do you want this, Sheriff?"

She asks, using her power to bring about a glamour resembling the Mayor's office back in Storybrooke, and she catches a groan from above her as Emma opens her eyes only to squeeze them firmly closed once again.

"There's no use doing that, you've _seen_ it now, it's on your mind."

The Queen reasons pleasantly, and she chuckles darkly as the younger woman hisses 'bitch' with bitter rage.

"Now now, play nice, dear... And tell me the truth... What do you want? In this place, in my office, from me... What do you want? Do you still want me to-"

"-Fuck me."

The blonde demands huskily, and the Queen smirks victoriously as she complies for just a moment- tasting for herself just how badly the younger woman means what says- before bringing her hand down smartly against wet flesh and pulling away.

"What... What the hell are you _doing_?!"

Emma demands after a choked cry at the harsh slap to her sex, and the brunette smiles as she looks down at her, standing once more with her hands on her hips.

Playing my hand, dear... After all, you said yourself that you sought me out for punishment."

"Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"I..."

"No, go on Saviour. Say what it is you mean to say. What has you sputtering so ineloquently right now?"

The brunette asks, knowing that if it were any other situation, Emma would simply tell her where she might like to shove certain ideas and instruments, but the serum has yet to wear off, and so the blonde answers truthfully to earn herself a low breath of laughter.

"I wanted you to punish me _my_ way... Not like this. I thought if I came to you, you would reprimand me with pain."

"I see... Well, the thing _is_ , dear, I do believe that this has worked a lot _better_ than if I'd done so. _I_ certainly feel a little better... Nowhere near wishing to form a _truce_ , mind, but less agitated now that I can see how uncomfortable you've become... And you know something else? This is something I picked up on back when stuck with my lesser half... I think you might appreciate this..."

"What?"

Emma demands, knowing full well that she absolutely will _not_ appreciate what the darker woman as to say.

"When you went dark before- when you went all power goth and premenstrual on everyone- you held back a little when it came to me. Oh, you did the same for Henry, so I suppose I shouldn't feel _overly_ special, but you held back on me a little... Even though you asserted that so much of what happened was _my_ fault..."

"What's your point?"

"My _point_ is that several times now you've threatened to kill me, and warned me that you would obtain the upper hand... And I'm still waiting."

"Daniel-"

"-What about him? What you did was cruel and despicably low, Saviour, but take a look at where we currently stand, you and I. Would you really call that _winning_? I have you at my mercy, full of delectable little details I can coax from you with simply a couple of words, tellingly wet, and waiting for release."

"I can handle it."

Emma shrugs, and the Queen raises a brow as she is surprised that this must still be what the blonde sees as the truth. Sighing irritably as she'd been hoping for a greater reaction- _begging, for one-_ she takes a seat back on the bed and studies the younger woman who remains bare and on edge in front of her.

"Can you?"

She challenges, and when Emma nods boldly, she curls her lip into a malicious sneer and flicks her wrist to emit an unseen veil of magic she has only used on one occasion before now.

 _Oh, but_ what _an occasion..._

Smirking as she recalls the way her servant had kicked and writhed on the floor as she'd laughed- gleefully- and reaped her enjoyment from their frustration.

"Uh..."

Emma mutters as she twitches in the chair, and she closes her legs together tightly with a tic to her jaw.

"What is it?"

The Queen enquires, although she knows... Of course she does.

"I feel weird."

The blonde replies uneasily, not having meant to say anything, but she still only holds a certain amount of control over her responses and she glowers at the darker woman accusingly.

"Bad?"

The brunette asks, and Emma shakes her head; swallowing as her previous arousal resulting from the Queen's- hatefully cruel- teasing has intensified alarmingly, and she shifts uneasily in her seat as she answers quietly

"Good. Really good."

"Hmm... Well _that_ doesn't sound much like punishment to _me_."

The brunette frowns theatrically, before giving another flick of her wrist to send enchanted roped snaking around the chair as if from nowhere; binding the younger woman to her seat. The rope is bright white and narrow, but Emma quickly learns that innocuous looks can be deceiving, as with each panicked movement, her restraints grow tighter, and they seem impervious to either her magic or her strength as she begins to panic.

"What the _hell_?!"

She snaps, her breathing audible as she is suffering a most peculiar series of sensations in her lower abdomen, and the darker woman smirks as she appreciates the way the ropes have tied the blonde's ankles to the chair legs to keep her thighs partially spread; allowing her to observe just how efficiently her little charm is doing its job of keeping the Saviour cruelly- but perpetually- on edge.

"What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?"

The brunette asks; still wearing her better half's guise as she regards the Sheriff from beneath dusky lashes.

"Fuck..."

The blonde hisses, jerking in her restraints, and the Queen pushes herself up from the bed and begins slowly unlacing the ribbons of her corset.

"Isn't this _exactly_ what you want?"


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** _Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. Exciting news for me is that I've finished the first draft of my manuscript for my non-fanfic writing, so I should now have more time in the evenings to catch up with these two :) I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I know a couple of you have mentioned about Emma being Dark Swan and that she should potentially have more power than the Queen, and I promise that's going to be addressed soon. I'm just trying to figure out how to get there as I go, but I agree that she has more potential and will get to it/ explain why it's been a little more complicated for her to access that power. Reviews would be awesome! :)_

* * *

 _"Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"_

The Queen purrs as she allows her corset to fall open and drop to the floor. She takes a couple of slow steps closer to where Emma sits- bound in her chair- and regards her with feverish intensity. She maintains her glamour over the room; rendering it all but identical to the Mayor's office back in Storybrooke. Up above, the false light of the chandelier twinkles and adds a mirthful glint to dark eyes as she watches the younger woman struggle against her restraints helplessly.

"There's no use doing that."

She warns in a syrupy, sweet voice, and she chuckles as this advice earns her an angry glower and bitter murmur of irritation.

"Now, now, dear, play nicely for once. _Answer_ me... Isn't this what you want?"

The Queen pushes demandingly, and she reaches up and tweaks her nipple gently with a quiet hum of pleasure, before allowing her teasing to become a little rougher as she maintains fiery eye contact with the Saviour. Emma swallows and shifts uncomfortably in her chair; wanting nothing more than to close her legs and deny the darker woman evidence that her taunting is having the desired effect.

 _Well, no, that's not_ strictly _true. I want nothing_ more _than for her to get back down on her knees, use her teeth, and-_

"-Savoiur!"

The brunette interrupts, and Emma narrows her eyes but is unable to suppress a shudder as the curious new breed of magic the Queen tortures her with keeps her mercilessly on edge; feeling as though the slightest touch, the smallest relief would send her careening over into ecstasy.

She knows her wicked tormentor well enough to be certain such sweet relief isn't on the cards for her.

"It's _not_ what I want..."

She growls angrily, and she can feel the potency of the veritae beginning to wear off, but rebellion is still a little out of her grasp as the truth remains easier for her to articulate.

 _It_ is _true_ _... I want her to_ fuck _me or leave me the hell alone! I don't want a damned_ striptease _._

 _Not really..._

 _Do I?_

She frowns, as with the way the Queen trails her fingers over her supple flesh to elicit small noises of delight, she isn't so sure. She is reminded of an incident not too long ago which had led to yet another bout of the mixed emotions and confusion the darker woman keeps teasing her about. She'd been sat with the Mayor and with Mary Margaret in the darker woman's kitchen when she'd complained about pain in her shoulders after biting at Henry's challenge the night before that she was no longer able to give him a piggyback down the stairs (fortunately, neither of them had been injured, and she'd not had to concede to his being correct, but her smugness had come at a price!). Snow had turned from making herself coffee to stand behind her and massage her shoulders briefly, in spite of her squirming and protesting as strong fingers had prodded ruthlessly at aching muscles. To her left, Regina had let out a low sigh; scolding her beneath her breath for the fuss she was putting up and lamenting the fact it hardly seemed _fair_ she was being offered such generous treatment given her apparent inability to enjoy it. She'd offered the darker woman a smirk in response, and, when she'd gotten up to raid Regina's fridge in the hopes of something edible, she'd given slim shoulders a brief, pointed squeeze; purely in jest, but the noise that had escaped full lips had been one of appreciation as well as surprise, before the brunette had adopted an altogether more familiar tone and told her to desist fooling around.

She'd played back that small noise- that moan- in her head, though.

She'd played it back several times.

"What _do_ you want, then?"

The Queen pulls her from her thoughts, and Emma shakes her head as the darker woman works her way out of her remaining garments to leave her stood bare on the stone floor. The blonde notes distractedly that at some point between banishing her violently upstairs, and greeting her once more with anger, the brunette appears to have vanquished the room of the dust and deterioration that plagues the rest of the castle; mostly likely with a mere flick of her wrist.

"Tell me."

The Queen demands, perching back onto the bed and studying her spoils intently. She marvels at the way the blonde's stomach clenches visibly now and then, but she keeps her amused admiration for the fact the Saviour has so far maintained her composure in spite of her relentless invisible teasing to herself. After all, Emma's poker face, while admirable, is tainted wonderfully by the telling glitter that paints her thighs, and the brunette licks her lips slowly as she catches another involuntary shiver.

"Nothing to share? Shame... I wonder, Saviour, if I might be able to _guess_..."

She smiles as though accepting silent bait, and Emma grits her teeth uncomfortably.

 _Great... Now you've let yourself think of this as a_ challenge _, a game... Something you have a pretty_ un _subtle weakness for..._

She doubts the Queen can read her mind, but can't help but entertain the idea, as the brunette fixes her with a dark stare and parts her legs slowly; mimicking her own forced position in the chair.

Unlike the blonde, the Queen suffers no restraints, and she runs painted nails up the soft skin of her thigh, feather-light, before dipping her fingers down to cup her sex- all the while keeping blown, green eyes locked with her own.

"Am I getting warm? Am I getting red hot, dear? Hmmm?"

The darker woman teases slyly, moving up onto her knees with one hand going to her breast while the other slips further down as she enters herself slowly. She takes care to maintain her glamour; keeping her features soft and the room a dizzying haze of confusion between Storybrooke and reality. She feels wonderfully perverse acting as she does, but it's not the first time. She is no stranger to being lusted over, wanted, revered, and she'd once taken great delight in punishing others with what they couldn't have. She supposes her behaviour is a little childish, but while she is able to recognise this fact, she sees no reason to do anything _about_ it; she's the Queen. She will act as she wishes.

She will do what makes her happy.

And right now- watching the Saviour squirm in her chair as she bites her bottom lip- she's very happy indeed.

She dips her fingers deeper with her attention trained on the wetness spreading between forcefully parted legs, and smirks with amusement as Emma tries to avert her gaze; succeeding for only a couple of seconds before she feels compelled to treat herself to another glance.

Working against the blonde's failing attempts to deny her pure wantoness, the Queen meets each thrust of her fingers with a vocal display of pleasure, watching with mounting intrigue as the younger woman's cheeks rouge damningly.

"Isn't this what you want?"

She demands once more, and Emma meets her gaze with an unwilling nod of her head as her knuckles blanch around the chair's armrests.

"You _can_ 'handle it' though, can't you, Saviour? That's what you assured me..."

The darker woman muses silkily, and when she is denied a response, she pushes herself off the bed and stalks back to where the blonde sits captive and barks at her sternly

" _Can't_ you?!"

"Yes."

Emma hisses, although she's beginning to wonder, as the Queen's cruel spell has her feeling lightheaded with need, and as slim fingers- slick with the brunette's excitement- find her jaw to force her into meeting glittering coals, she lets out a low, guttural sound as the feel- the scent- of the Queen has her tensing up in her seat; willing desperate release.

Desperate _relief_.

"Hmmm... You're sure?"

The darker woman purrs, relishing that involuntary groan so recently forced from pretty, parted lips, and she smirks as Emma attempts to stare her down- pupils blown out and cheeks pink- and slips her index finger into the blonde's mouth; allowing the younger woman to taste her whether she wants to or not. She is aware that she's all but _asking_ to be bitten, and wouldn't put such an ill-mannered response past the Sheriff. It seems Emma is thinking the same thing, as she battles her urge to snap at the Queen's bait with difficulty; not wanting to give her the satisfaction of meeting cruel seduction with unrefined retaliation. Instead, she remains perfectly still, and the darker woman raises a brow as she dips her finger a little deeper before pulling out a little; mimicking the slow act of fucking as she touches dangerous teeth experimentally; swallowing when the blonde teases back with a flicker of her tongue, before cleaning her off with intent.

"I'm beginning to have my doubts, Saviour..."

The brunette whispers into heavy curls as she adds another finger before moving behind the younger woman and wrapping her other hand around the blonde's throat; encouraging her to tilt her head back with a choked sound as she allows a crude thrust.

"You know... I'm willing to allow you your stubbornness; it suits you well. You do look so _lovely_ sat here, helpless, wishing you could touch me..."

Another choked noise from the Sheriff, this time tinged with irritation, and the Queen chuckles quietly as she strokes the pale expanse of the blonde's throat.

"Shhh... I'm allowing you your pride... _If_ , however, you're finding that you _can't_ handle it as you've claimed, I want you to know something very _interesting_ about those ropes holding you captive, dear..."

She forces Emma's head back further so that she can look her in the eye and she smirks.

"They are designed to keep one captive, unless unequivocally willing to bow down to their captor."

A stubborn shake of the blonde's head at this, impeded by the Queen's intrusive fingers and dangerous grasp, and the brunette laughs darkly.

"Oh fear not, dear, it's not _literal_... Well, not entirely. What is required is the desperate need to serve- to do as your captor wills of you with pure and unwavering intent. Only then, when your need is true, will you be released... As magic goes, it's an interesting little spell. So often power derives from loyalty, from blood, from a need to protect or attack. It requires some deep purpose to be put into effect, but not this, dear. This is purely a test of your resilience in a carnal fashion. A challenge to your word if you will... For you see, I refuse to believe that you _can_ handle it- I can see how hard you're finding it just to sit still; I can see the mess you're making...- and I do so _love_ to accept a challenge and push it to the limits... Especially a challenge such as yourself."

The brunette finally releases the younger woman's throat and withdraws glistening fingers as she stalks back towards the bed and takes a seat. Adopting a pose much like the blonde's once more with her legs spread and her own excitement displayed, she dips two fingers still warm from the Saviour's mouth between slick folds and closes her eyes.

"Watch, if it pleases you... If you can 'handle it'."

The Queen states huskily, thrusting her fingers in deep and falling back onto the bed. She has lost her grip on the glamour of the room; no longer maintaining a curious blend of office and boudoir. Her mask as the Mayor remains strong however, and the noises she makes as she continues her debauched display- her wicked challenge- are laced with a soft and sensual undertone she'd rarely used during her years on the throne. She catches a sound from across the room somewhere between a groan and a growl and smirks as she amps up her game; allowing herself to react freely- and loudly- without inhibition as she moves her fingers and explores her body with her other hand.

Another noise of anguished desperation, and she opens her mouth with pleasure as she maintains her cruel spell on the blonde; keeping her so close to the edge she imagines it must be maddening.

 _No issue of mine..._

She muses as she moves slick fingers to play momentarily over her most sensitive spot. Still, Emma seems to think this is a game- it's _all_ a game- and she wants to win. The Queen wants to prove the younger woman wrong. She wants to remind the blonde just who's in control here.

Playing the hand she has found most effective thus far, she strives to concentrate and throws a glamour over the bed and its close surroundings; turning flagstone to cream carpet and heavy velvet and satin to a muted cotton/silk blend. She knows Regina has invited Emma up to her bedroom on two occasions- both innocuous and regretfully tame- and that the blonde will recognise the scene she proposes with ease.

The hissed expletive that greets this new dimension to her teasing has her certain the younger woman will be swift to fold, and she's proven right a moment later as she feels a small infraction to her power and knows that the blonde is free from her restraints. She doesn't bother looking up, as the ropes would have only let up if Emma's intent suits her own, and so the cry she gives as the younger woman pulls at her hips to drag her down the bed where she subsequently kneels is not one of surprise, but rather of anticipation.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

The Queen repeats her previous demand for the truth, and while she knows the veritae will have worn off by now, she expects the blonde will reply honestly as there's too much evidence to deny the fact. She runs her fingers gently into long curls as Emma nips at her thigh before tasting her hungrily; keeping up her facade of playing the blonde's Mayor, before the younger woman's touch gets the better of her, and she wraps the blonde's hair around her fist and desists playing so nicely.

"Is this something you imagined?"

She pants, striving to keep up appearances with their surroundings, but the floor flickers from rug to stone as her breathing becomes frantic and desperate and her hold on silvery tresses turns ruthless and demanding. In place of an answer, the Saviour bites her inner thigh crudely, and she retaliates by pulling Emma into her roughly with little care for if the blonde might be able to breathe. Taking the younger woman's answer as a 'no' the Queen chuckles throatily before she is forced to swallow a groan, and she looks down from beneath hooded lids and smirks

"Yes, I know, you said you'd not gotten that far, and I suppose I have to believe you... You'd _like_ this though, wouldn't you, Saviour? If it were real? If it were her?"

This time she catches a flicker of the blonde's gaze as she glances up at her reproachfully, and she shows the younger woman the sly point of her tongue between dangerous teeth before throwing her head back and fisting silken curls as the Saviour reciprocates in kind.

"Ah! Don't you dare stop, you bitch!"

She warns as she struggles to speak, struggles to _breathe_ , and she worries for a moment that in voicing such an order, she jeapordises her pleasure due to the blonde's seemingly innate need to do the opposite of what has been asked of her, but Emma doesn't defy her as she'd feared, and a couple of moments later, she lets out a cry as she goes over the edge with a jerk and her legs pulling the blonde into her instinctively.

"Bitch."

She repeats, panting hard, pushing herself up onto her elbows to survey the Saviour who remains knelt on the floor with her cheeks damningly wet. The floor is once more stone- the bed dressed in the heavy velvet favoured in this realm- and the Queen gathers her composure with her hand pressed to her chest and dark eyes never leaving green. Emma seems unfazed at her crude form of address and this doesn't surprise her. She's called the blonde a bitch countless time, both as herself, and as her better half, and she is certain she's not alone. There are plenty of names she imagines Emma _would_ take offence to, but as it is, she simply glowers back at her trying to anticipate her next move.

"It's what you wanted."

The Queen muses to herself, and she catches a clench to the blonde's jaw which confuses her for a moment, before she feels the comforting warmth of the magic still at play in the back of her mind, and smirks evilly.

"But not _all_ that you wanted... Are you uncomfortable, dear? Is that what spurred on that act of pathetic obedience?"

No answer, but she doesn't need Emma to speak; she can see the younger woman's begrudged discomfort in her eyes, and she dons a sweet, sly smile not to be trusted.

"Still feeling 'really _good_ ', Saviour?"

She asks, mimicking the blonde's uncertain stammering when she'd first squirmed under the influence of her spell bound in the chair. Ordinarily cool, calculating eyes now blown out and gleaming narrow back at her, and she beckons for the younger woman to follow her back to the chair.

" _Ah!_ "

She barks immediately as Emma goes to push herself up.

"Crawl."

She demands sternly, and she watches as the blonde hesitates; clearly at odds with going along with this demand, yet she can see in Emma's posture that she knows she currently holds all the cards. She has the blonde squirming at her mercy beneath her cruel but beautifully amusing spell, but also in a more general sense; she had been careful not to let go of her dominant position of power when descending into ecstasy, and so Emma remains unable to push back and stand a chance of flooring her as she would so clearly like to do.

"Come on, don't you want me to see to you?"

The Queen asks sweetly, and Emma grits her teeth as she complies; unsure what _else_ to do. Smiling as she watches the younger woman do as she's been told, the brunette pats the seat of the chair invitingly, but swiftly places a hand on the blonde's shoulder when she moves to take a seat.

"No, dear. Kneel. Up, go on, up on your knees. Hands and elbows on the seat... Good."

She murmurs, moving her hand from the younger woman's pale shoulder to the tangled mess of her hair; wild and unruly by her own doing. Slipping her foot between the blonde's legs, she forces her knees further apart before taking a step back and admiring the view.

"Oh..."

She hums appreciatively, touching the tip of her tongue to her top lip.

"I've never considered the reality of the phrase 'dripping wet' before, it always seemed so crude, and yet, it's so _fitting_ right now."

Emma closes her eyes as she struggles to keep a hold of her temper and block out the Queen's taunting, but she can feel evidence of the brunette's claim slick on her thighs, and she remains largely preoccupied with simply not begging for release as she's sure the darker woman wills of her.

"You're tempting, Saviour. Very tempting. Do you know that?"

The Queen muses, and when she trails off to leave them once more suspended in maddening silence, Emma agrees coolly

"I know. We covered that already..."

Laughter at this; cruel and conniving, and the blonde feels a curious sense of dread as she's suddenly not so sure that the darker woman means to fuck her, but rather to continue fucking _with_ her. She's not altogether sure if she can take it; physically, as she's never felt so desperate for relief, nor mentally, as she's still reeling from the carnival of tricks the Queen has pulled on her since gatecrashing her life, and she doesn't dare imagine what more she might have in store.

"Please."

She utters before she can help herself, and it's little more than a whisper, but she feels as though she might as well have screamed the word as the darker woman laughs unkindly.

"Oh, my dear, sweet, Princess..."

The Queen coos, and suddenly the blonde feels hot breath on her shoulder and an iron grip on her hair as the brunette leans down and hisses at her; no longer playing

"How _dare_ you use that word with me and expect mercy after what you did with the diary? How _dare_ you come and seek me out thinking this would remain just a _game_... You continue to view this as some debauched version of live theatre, when I have spilt the blood of several men where you now kneel! What you did was _reprehensible_! You thought this was _punishment_? You believed my letting you fuck me as your dear Mayor was _punishmen_ t?! No, sweetness, as you should know full well from the tales in Henry's book and my previous warnings; my need for vengeance- for retribution- knows no bounds. I cautioned you that you'd crossed the line, yet you honestly think I'm going to let it go so easily as to have you knelt, wet and pathetic before me?!"

Emma shivers as the fist around her hair tightens, and she searches for some form of response- derogatory, teasing or otherwise; _anything_!- but then she feels the Queen find a grip on the back of her neck and feels suddenly cold and unable to control her body.

"What... What are you doing?"

She asks, and her voice sounds slurred.

 _No. Not slurred. It sounds far away... Like I'm not really here._

The Queen laughs in response, and as she explains her intent, it becomes clear of its own accord, and the younger woman squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the scenes that follow.

"You played me with that damned diary; reading of my private experiences with no regard! You _violated_ one of my few treasured memories! Well, you played your hand but without finesse; your form was sloppy and your ability laughable! You're either forgetful or just plain _stupid_ , you little bitch, if it never crossed your mind that while you take your foolish shots in the dark when it comes to power, I am _trained_! I'm a _student_ of the craft! You're powerful, yes, so they all kept reminding you back in that dratted town of yours, but you're _naive_ with it... I can do so much _more_ than you could hope to attempt, Saviour, and I don't need some old book to get my own back! You imposed on my good memories, crossing every line, and now I'm only too happy to repay the favour! You snooped on my best... I'll revel in your _worst_! Everything! Everything you've kept inside, everything that keeps you up at night! It's all right here in my grasp; your darkest secrets are merely my playground!"

What had started as an angry sermon little less than a scream has become a low and dangerous hiss against the younger woman's cheek, and the Queen's eyes glaze crystal white as she charges through the younger woman's tangled web of recollection searching for everything hidden and carefully stored away.

She's three, she's ten, she's twelve, she's seventeen, she's twenty-two, she's twenty-seven, she's twenty-eight.

She's cold, she's scared, she's hungry, she's crying, she's running- running away- she's being chased, she's lying on the pavement; pinned down receiving seemingly endless blows to her jaw.

She's in this home, that home, no home, homeless.

She's with him, her, her, him, Neal, and some faceless shadow looming over her telling her to shut up; dark face, dark eyes, wearing a guard's uniform.

She's covering her ears, covering her eyes, covering her mouth.

Laughing, coughing, screaming, crying, bleeding.

She's sitting in a car, out above the sea, her belly empty- of food, of baby- and looking down at- contemplating- the crashing waves below.

She's-

But the Queen's grip on the blonde breaks and the scenes and sensations shatter like glass as she falls forwards; her cruel hand on the younger woman's neck suddenly snatching at nothing but air, and she lands on her knees where Emma had been forced down moments ago.

"What..."

She whispers, eyes wide and utterly perplexed; touching a finger uncertainly to the curious black ash that surrounds her.

" _Ah!_ "

She pulls back instantly, and watches- fearfully mesmerised- as that strange dark sediment eats into the chair and into the stone floor with a dangerous hiss as it smoulders.

"...Saviour...?"

She calls out, her brow furrowed and fists clenched apprehensively, but she receives no answer.

The silence is damning.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** _Part 2/ Enchanted Forest part to come tomorrow (promise!). None of this is what I'd planned to write_ _tonight- it's not even the scene I'd had planned to write!- so I have a lot more to come, but its getting late, and I find it hard to edit them when the chapters get too long, so I thought I would update with this scene first as it's been a while :) Hope you enjoy, and I'll get into what's going down between Emma and the Evil Queen tomorrow! _

* * *

Entering Gold's shop, Regina takes the lead with Lily at her heel. The windows on their approach had been dark, and the open sign has been turned around to read 'closed', but Gold's car is parked outside, and the Mayor knows that the little man makes a habit of tinkering in the back room of an evening, especially as all seems doomed in Paradise between himself and Belle. Keeping to himself in the shadows provides the additional benefit of avoiding the messy situation in town, as tensions remain and grow around the newcomers that have descended into their world from the air ship wrecked in the forest, and Regina feels a pang of jealousy as she would quite like some distance from the chaos herself.

 _That sort of thing has always been Snow's strength- hers and Charming's- while Emma and I do better keeping a watchful eye at the periphery._

True, but for vastly different reasons- her own, because until recently she had known she wouldn't be trusted any further, while Emma maintains this position purely as she lacks the interest and social generosity of her parents- but they'd each done their part until recently.

Until the younger woman's strangely flirtatious change in attitude, and her decision to wear the dress.

 _That goddamn dress._

Swallowing, she pushes aside the heavy velvet curtain separating shelves stocked with curios and Gold's workroom, to find the man bent over a small wooden box, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

"Regina."

He greets her without looking up. Whether in response to being ignored, or merely by coincidence, Lily clears her throat as she emerges from behind the Mayor, and the little man finally glances up with a frown.

"You..."

He muses, having spent little time around the surly young woman the others brought back to town. He has discussed her at great length with Malificent in regards to what power she might posses and what hazards might linger from the prophecy of her birth, but he has only spoken to the woman herself on a couple of occasions, each time receiving little more than a series of grunts in return. He has seen her talking animatedly with Emma, however; occasionally spying the two of them stalking past his shop towards the woods with their stance and mannerisms amusingly alike. It fascinates him that the two had found each other and formed a friendship in the outside world, and he supposes there must be more to Lily than meets the eye, as he knows first hand that trying to get close to Emma to the point of the blonde readily participating in friendly conversation is no east feat. It is something she will only allow of him now after their years spent enduring a complex and occasionally tempestuous dance, and he has found that beneath her chilly exterior, Emma can be surprisingly upbeat and friendly. It is something that both amuses him, and irritates her when he finds cause to mention it.

As such, he has marvelled at the fact several times in her presence.

He would guess that Lily might be a little harder to crack, as she lacks the cheek he'd sensed from the Saviour upon first meeting her; seeming to favour scorn over wit, and bitterness over sarcasm. He imagines there must be a reason, and that he would find it intriguing to know more, but Storybrooke is not the sleepy town it had been before Emma showed up to set prophecy in motion, and it is rare that he has the time to delve deep into the psyche of others these days, much as he might like to.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He asks of the women curiously, and Lily narrows her eyes distrustfully while Regina gets straight to the point.

"You were the one that messaged _me_ requesting a meeting."

"Ah, yes, I-"

"-And I want to know what you make of this."

The brunette interrupts before she can help herself, pulling the fractured cuff found in Emma's basement from her coat pocket and dumping it out on the desk.

Gold looks down at crude metal for a tense moment of silence, before finding dark eyes glittering with confusion, and something else that surprises him a little.

 _Fear. She's afraid..._

"Where did you find this?"

He asks with a frown, recognising the cuff for what it is immediately, but never seeing such an item baring the damage that the one on his desk does. It shouldn't be possible to _blemish_ an object baring the enchantment that lingers in the metal, much less _destroy_ it and render it useless.

"Emma's. In the basement."

Regina replies, and to save Gold asking what she perceives as logical follow up questions, she elaborates in a strained voice

"She's not there. She's not _anywhere_! I've been looking for her after spending some time with her earlier where she seemed... Out of sorts."

"Upset?"

"No... Just... Not herself."

The brunette shakes her head, intriguing the little man as a delicate blush creeps across her cheeks, and he takes a seat behind his desk as he leans over the cuff to study it up close, and murmurs politely enough

"Vague replies beget vague solutions, Regina. As my student for a number of years, I would hope that you'd know that."

"Tell him."

Lily interrupts, and the Mayor glances back at her with an irritable scowl, before returning her attention to Gold and balling her hands into fists inside the pockets of her coat.

"She was... Behaving in a manner not befitting our relationship."

"That could mean anything."

Lily points out from behind her, and Regina purses her lips as she takes in a slow, placating breath, before explaining in a carefully expressionless voice.

"If not for the fact I know her _better_ than that, I would have said that Miss Swan was... Flirting with me."

She feels her complexion darken with heat and discomfort, but rather than incredulous laughter or shock, she receives very little in the way of a response from Gold, who merely offers a small nod to let her know her words have been acknowledged as he continues to study the cuff, and an audible escape of breath from behind. Looking back at Lily, she expects to be met with disbelief or cruel amusement, but the younger woman's expression is complex and one she is unable to read. Frowning, Regina turns back to Gold and splays her palms impatiently

"Well?!"

"Is it out of character for Miss Swan to flirt with you?"

The pawnbroker asks, and he offers the flustered stammering the Mayor offers in response a moment's amusement, before addressing her gravely.

"I only ask as the two of you have suffered a grand spectrum of changes to your relationship, rendering your read of the situation possible, if a little unlikely."

"She has Hook."

Regina replies, unsure why she does so through gritted teeth and with just a hint of resentment.

"And I had Mila."

Gold replies quietly, but he drops the subject rather than pushing it further, as there are more important things for them to discuss.

"Snow informed me that you protected your father's crypt using blood magic."

"Yes... What of it?"

Regina frowns, thrown by what she sees as a sudden change of direction, and she feels a flicker of dread as dark eyes rise to meet her own and Gold informs her solemnly

"The seal was breached."

"How is that possible?... _Zelena_?!"

The Mayor barks accusingly, and Gold shakes his head.

"I asked her. She said she had nothing to do with it."

"Oh, and it would be _entirely_ out of character for her to _lie_! It-"

"-It wouldn't at all, but in this instance, I believe her. It lends credence to a theory I've been troubled over for some time now... And you've just brought me the proof."

"What's that?"

The brunette furrows her brow in confusion, looking down at the fractured cuff on the desk.

"Charmed objects carry within them an essence of those affected as well as those who charmed them in the first place... Tell me, what did you feel when you found this?"

"... Emma. It has something to do with her... I've worked alongside the woman enough times to recognise her magic, only..."

"Only she shouldn't have been able to use magic at _all_ with that on, right?"

Lily speaks up as the Mayor trails off with a deeply troubled expression, and the latter nods, before adding quietly

"The magic she used was dark... Very dark."

A small noise of disquiet from behind her at this, yet Gold merely nods with his weathered features appearing drawn.

"Yes. That's what I feel too... _One_ of the things I feel."

"What do you mean?"

Regina asks, extending a hand to touch the cuff, and Gold raises his own as he advises her gently

"There's no use in you doing that, dearie, it is almost impossible to detect one's own magic in such a way."

"... _My_ magic?"

"If you will."

Gold agrees, before imparting what had started off as a worrisome theory a little over a week ago, and what he now believes to be true.

"It's your magic, Regina, of that I have no doubt; I know your signature better than anyone. But, as with Miss Swan's, the magic used by your hand carries a darkness. It-"

"-What the fuck have you _done_!?"

Lily bursts out, and when both Gold and Regina offer her a startled look, she rounds on the Mayor aggressively; pointing a finger in her face.

" _You_! You fucking _snake!_ You made up this whole story and acted so god damned _stung_ when I suggested you might mean Emma harm, and you fucking _cursed_ her with that thing! You-"

"-No."

Gold interrupts loudly to be heard over Lily's tirade, and when the younger woman shoots him an incredulous glance, he repeats sternly

"No... Regina didn't have anything to do with it."

"But-"

"-I didn't," Regina interrupts emphatically, "I wouldn't. I _wouldn't_ hurt Emma, I believe I've made that quite _clear_!"

"You can understand her confusion."

Gold points out, and when the Mayor throws him a look that suggests she is similarly at a loss for what seems to be going on, he sighs as he picks up the cuff and holds it in his palm.

"Regina, when you split from the Evil Queen... I had my doubts. Not because I was unsure whether your intent was pure, or anything so accusatory. It simply seemed too easy, and I have been around long enough to know that magic rarely is. I was content to leave my unease at that, until spending some time with Mister Hyde. That encounter set the cogs turning if you will, as did several oddities I've witnessed over the last week. The breach to your seal over the crypt gave weight to my growing suspicion, and the lingering power trapped in this cuff concludes what I'd feared... You separated the Queen from your body- your soul- dearie, but she didn't die. She lives as her own dark entity, free of the constraints that bound her when tethered to your conscience."

"... She's _alive_?"

Regina breathes, dark eyes widening with a combination of horror and uncertainty.

"I believe so, and I believe there has been some altercation- some _interaction_ , at least- between herself and Emma."

"Oh god..."

"Quite... Yet I can't explain how this cuff came to bear the damage it does. I have never seen such a thing... But, I have _read_ of something similar."

"It's happened before?"

"That really depends."

"On what?"

"If you believe in legends... A similar occurrence is transcribed in the Book of Lille; not a book known by many in the Enchanted Forest, but a popular compilation of mythology from another realm."

"Stories, then..."

Regina frowns, and Gold grins- his false tooth twinkling- and muses silkily

"Stories like the ones in Henry's book?"

"... Okay... So what _happens_ in this myth? What happens with the cuff?"

"In the story of Prya, it is a bejewelled amulet, not a cuff, but the idea behind it is the same. It dampens the power of the one that wears it, and is impossible to remove, save for by the hand of the one to cast the enchantment or placed it upon the victim. In the tale, Prya is faced with a series of tasks- as is formulaic with these things- each one harder and more humiliating than the last. When she is given her final task- the particulars of which, I forget- she is overcome with such rage, and such wicked fury, that the enchantment breaks beneath her wrath; her anger and will a thousand times darker than that of the enchanter. The amulet breaks in two, and she and her enforcer are engulfed in the magic that escapes; brining them to face one another where their story first started. To where that darkness was ignited and began to fester. In the tale of Prya; a market stall in the city square."

"... If that story bears any resemblance to our current situation... Emma's darkness was greater than that of the Evil Queen."

Regina speaks up hoarsely, remembering both the way the blonde had smiled coquettishly at her while sat too close- too intimate- beside her on the sofa, and an altogether more familiar meeting with the younger woman last week, where the blonde had helped her figure out a confusing new update on her phone with greatly appreciated patience; laughing now and then as they had chatted agreeably, and she struggles to picture that grinning woman besting the Queen. She has seen several unsavoury sides to the younger woman in their years of knowing one another, but she has never seen a malicious streak tainting that occasional darkness that would match the cruelty of her former self. Emma has shown anger and bitterness on occasion- most notably when under the control of the dagger- but even as the Dark One, her threat had been one of fury, of wrath, rather than the twisted need for revenge that had marked the brunette when sat on the throne.

"Emma isn't like that..."

Soft words- uncertain- and the Mayor frowns as she hadn't meant to say such a thing out loud, before realising that they come from behind her. Looking back at Lily, the younger woman challenges her defiantly with her stare, but Regina simply nods and turns back to Gold with the same point of view.

"Miss Swan wouldn't stoop to the depths that woman would go."

She insists, and it feels odd talking about a version of herself in such a way, and yet she feels nothing like the despicable entity she'd torn from her being out on the roof. Gold shakes his head.

"Miss Swan has a higher propensity for darkness than most... She has thus far kept any urge to let it overwhelm her contained where possible, as she seems also to be equipped with a wish to do good... But even the friendliest of dogs- and I would not call Emma especially friendly, nor tolerant!- will bite if poked enough times with a stick, and you know as well as I do, Regina, how dearly our fallen Queen enjoyed such a pastime of torment... I can't tell you what it is that she did to send Emma over the edge, but I _can_ tell you that she succeeded. Else this cuff would still be on the Saviour's wrist, and wouldn't carry such an aura of darkness."

"...So what now?"

Lilys asks, and she sounds just as strained as the Mayor feels.

"Where are they?"

"I believe Regina might be able to guess the answer to that."

Gold sighs, placing down the cuff and steeping his fingers beneath his chin as he regards the darker woman shrewdly.

"The Forest... They're in the Enchanted Forest."


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:** _As promised, part 2 :) Hope you enjoy, and comments would be lovely!_

* * *

Blinking slowly, Emma frowns as she is met by nothing but grey; oppressive. Infinite. For a moment, she suffers a terrible wave of fear that she's lost not just the battle, but the war, and that the Evil Queen has truly broken her. That she has somehow ceased to exist, and that this is some version of hell mortals have yet to consider.

 _Give me flames, give me pitchforks any day! Give me_ something _! I can't do this, can't live like this forever. Can't-_

But her fretting is interrupted by a shrill caw, and her eyes widen as endless nothingness is broken up by three black shapes as a family of birds flies overhead. Closing one eye with a low groan, she pushes herself up onto her elbows, and takes in her surroundings; coming to the understanding that the grey void threatening thunder is just the sky, and that she lies in a small clearing that she remembers well.

"Oh fuck."

She mutters, and a low rumble heavy with the threat of rain accompanies this sentiment fittingly. The last time she'd been here, it had been a confusing, overwhelming experience, but this time she knows the score. Wrinkling her nose at the lingering scent of sulphur and soot, she struggles to her feet and shucks the ugly brown robe that swamps her from her shoulders. She's naked underneath, but she pays this little concern, as this isn't like the last time she'd been consumed by the darkness only to emerge in this curious section of the woods, and she doubts Rumple will be making an appearance any time soon to mentor her in the ways of the dagger.

 _That was all in your head, anyway._

Right. And regardless, she's done all that already. She knows.

Another rumble of thunder, and heavy droplets begin to fall; hitting her bare flesh with force and washing away some of the dust and dirt from the shallow grazes patterning her limbs as a result of the Queen's rough ministrations.

 _The Queen..._

Green eyes narrow as the blonde seethes angrily, her mind still spinning with memories she'd tucked carefully away that have been shaken up and let out of their cages at the Evil Queen's hand.

"She can't get away with that... Not that hand. I'll _kill_ her."

The blonde hisses, and it's a strange thing, as she finds she actually believes her threat for truth. It is something she has previously said about several people- most frequently Neal, once she'd gotten out of prison to find herself alone and without answers- but she has always considered it something one says in the heat of the moment, rather than an honest claim of intent.

She had never imagined she actually _would_ kill Neal.

Never imagined she'd kill her foster brothers and sisters for their various transgressions.

Had never intended to follow through with her grumbled threat in the company of her mother that she planned to murder Miss Ginger for yet another sly remark when passing her in the street.

"This time, I mean it."

She mutters as she stalks from the clearing and into the thick veil of shadow cast by the trees.

Funnily enough, she thinks that one of the few people she _hasn't_ threatened to kill- in jest, or out of frustration- is the Mayor, despite the woman all but _begging_ for it when they had first met. She isn't about to romanticise this fact with any deeper reasoning- the words just simply never left her lips- but as she walks through wet dirt laden with sharp twigs and roots that bite at her feet, she rolls her eyes; not quite ready yet to see the _funny_ side in her subconscious favouring of Regina. Not when it threatens to prove several things the Evil Queen has accused her of.

"Ah!"

She hisses, wincing as her heel comes down on a dead snag of thorns, and she lifts her foot reflexively; watching as several drops of blood blemish the earth. The sting of the wound serves to help clear her head, and she savours that barb of pain for a moment, before making a small movement with her wrist and clothing herself once more in tight leather and black boots laced to the knee.

Venturing further into the woods, she has no real way if knowing where she's going, but that's okay. She'll figure it out when she's ready. For now, she's content to endure the thunder and the rain as she nips at her bottom lip thoughtfully; biting down hard enough to draw blood where soft flesh has been previously abused, but not noticing as it tracks down her chin only to be washed away in sections as the rest dries. Finally, she comes to a halt, her attention captivated by what she spies between the trees, and a slow smile finds her lips.

"Poppies."

She murmurs, ducking out from under the trees to enter the clearing where a small colony of flowers bloom deep scarlet. They carry dark, purple veins- almost black- down the centre of their petals, unlike those in the world she's left behind, but she recognises them instantly, having learnt more than she'd bargained for about this particular species while in Neverland.

She recognises the species, and knows what they can _do_.

Bending down, she picks five blooms dappled with raindrops; careful to keep from allowing the pollen to touch her flesh. Opening one hand, she conjures a large piece of brown paper which she wraps around her small harvest; marvelling at how much more _easily_ magic comes to her when her adrenalin is pumping and her blood courses potently with anger and aggression.

 _No_ wonder _Rumple and Regina held all the cards..._

She muses as she considers the bundle in her hand, and she recalls the pleasant thrum and heightened ability of her magic from when she'd first accepted the darkness on Regina's behalf, but this is _more_ than that, this is like a drug, and she imagines it must be something to do with the fact that when she'd become the Dark One- _a_ Dark One- before, she'd done so reluctantly. Now, since giving in to the urge in her basement back in Storybrooke, she accepts the mantel as it seems only fitting in the face if her current opponent.

"She's not going to get away with it."

She repeats savagely beneath her breath, and she closes her fist around paper-wrapped stalks, before closing her eyes and concentrating on where she means to find herself when she opens them once again.

* * *

"Saviour?!"

The Queen barks for what feels like the hundredth time, becoming ever more irritated as she is met with silence. The peculiar residue powdering the floor where the blonde disappeared has since eaten a series of dark groves into the stone, and while it is entirely out of character, the brunette is forced to admit to herself that she feels ill at ease. She has checked the room in which she'd first awoken in the palace, as well as the atrium and the topiary garden outside; still bearing the ruin of her previous attempts to flush the little bitch out of hiding.

"Emma!"

She tries, feeling altogether too friendly for her liking shouting the younger woman's name out so that it echoes through the halls of the castle, but she receives no response, and she can feel it within herself that the blonde is no longer close by.

"Where have you gotten too, Saviour?"

She mutters beneath her breath, entering her room where the chair she'd tortured the younger woman upon stands sentinel over ominous burns. She looks away from this curious scene and heads towards the bed. Collecting up her clothes, she dresses herself slowly as she tries to formulate a plan. Taking a seat on plush covers, she runs a finger over her bottom lip as she ponders, meanwhile wondering if the blonde's imbecilic parents back in Storybrooke have noticed that she's missing.

Wondering if Snow has begun to fret.

* * *

"Oh, you poor thing..."

Emma muses as she steps between a scattering of bones surrounding the easily identifiable mound of a ribcage. The size alone distinguishes the beast, but the skull leaves her in no doubt that the remains- along with several others- belong to one of the horses that must have perished without anyone to care for them after the Queen's curse hit. Glancing up over the stable doors, she spies the castle looming in the distance behind the courtyard; an eery silhouette against a gunmetal sky.

"This is going to be a game of hide and seek you _don't_ want to win, Your Majesty..."

She warns quietly, smiling in a way that would unsettle the darker woman greatly, were she present to bear witness.

Turning her back on turrets and grandeur, the blonde spies what she'd been hoping to find hung up on a row of pegs on the far wall and she feels a flutter of excitement low in her stomach. Stalking over, she runs her fingers experimentally over the selection gathering dust against the stone wall. Her knowledge is fairly basic, but she recognises a variety of riding crops, along with two bullwhips (which she has always simply thought of as 'sex whips'), one of which she takes down from its peg and handles curiously. What really catches her attention though, is the lunge whip lain on the floor beneath its cousins; the rod made from carved wood unlike the fibreglass she has seen back home, with a long lash, and dangerous leather constituting a wicked tongue. The latter is cracked in places with age and disuse, but it keeps its integrity when she raises it in her hand and aims an experimental crack at the wall to elicit a sharp, pleasing noise.

"Excellent."

She murmurs matter-of-factly, before coming to a stop- hands on hips and whip in hand- before the large, wooden back doors that loom over her at seven foot high and several inches thick. Heavy nails adorn the wood, along with a pattern of knots and irregularities. Her mind races as she drinks in their rough relief, before turning back to the pegs and the work bench that runs alongside them. These host yet more riding equipment, some of which she recognises, some of which she wouldn't have the first clue what to do with.

 _Not that it matters._

No, what matters is what _she_ means to do with it, and she comes to a stop in front of a collection of bridles in various hues of black and brown. Touching the thick strip of the nose piece, she secures her plan, and she smirks to herself as she begins using her magic to slice and link the leather to the wood as she wills, thinking how wrong her high school art teacher had been when accusing her of lacking creative flair.

"Bite me _now_ , Miss Jecovich... "

She hisses as she tests the pull and give of her contraption, although she imagines Miss J might be less than impressed- _appalled, actually_ \- if faced with her depraved creation.

This thought lends her another smile, and she steps back to admire her work before turning once more toward the castle.

 _You played your little trick with those magical restraints, but what about something I've come across in the_ real _world, Your Highness? You forget, you're not the_ only _one with tricks up their sleeve and a past riddled with experimentation._

No, but she knows the Queen well- had known _Regina_ well- and she knows that the side of the darker woman that currently walks the halls of the castle is a slave to her arrogance. She has a habit of believing herself to have the upper hand, whether that presumption is based on fact or fantasy, and the blonde is eager to prove to her now that fantasy can be shattered.

 _Well... In a manner of speaking... I'm not so sure that rings true for myself right now..._

She touches the sharp point of her tongue to her upper lip and represses a shiver; knowing that she _could_ go about this in an ultimately more violent and _final_ way, but still reeling from the darker woman's deceitful actions and wanting to pay her back in kind. She supposes this feeds into the game they've been playing all along, but understands also that there's a _difference_. She no longer suffers any boundaries. What she'd done with the diary, that had been low, but the Queen had been right when she'd scolded her whilst knelt on the hard stone floor; she _could_ have gone _further_. She could have cut _deeper_.

"Careful what you wish for..."

Emma warns the silent stable gravely, unwrapping the poppies from their makeshift packaging and pulling a metal spoon from the workbench. At first glance, she finds it to be a curious item to have to hand, but a couple of barely legible markings in the bowl lead her to believe it had once been used to measure out doses of medicine. Whatever its original purpose, she uses it now as a vessel into which to carefully tap out noxious pollen.

Placing the spoon on uneven cobbles beside the lower mandible of a long dead horse, she steps back to survey the scene in its entirety, and considers it ready to be put to use. All she needs now is to lure the brunette into her trap, and she knows just how to do it.

Stalking out into the courtyard, she finds what she had spied upon first showing up here; a stack of armoured chest plates seemingly dropped and abandoned in the throes of the curse. She approaches them carefully, at an angle, throwing the fraying remains of a flag over the first that she comes across and hoisting it up into her arms. Taking it back with her into the safety of the stable, she unveils it with the dull side facing her and the shiny surface resting against the wall. Casting a quick glance over at the castle, she cloaks the chest plate with a sweep of her hand- effectively rendering the mirrored surface blind- before deeming it safe to turn around. Satisfied, she allows herself one final check of her surroundings, before lowering herself down onto the ground and forcing her limbs to go limp; her right arm outstretched with the palm submissively cast to the heavens beyond the thatched roof, a couple of inches away from the loaded spoon.

Making a small motion with her left hand, she removes her cloaking charm from the chest plate; allowing the shiny surface to act as a mirror, and simply waiting for the Queen to resort to old habits in her predictable quest to find her prey. She imagines it won't take all too long, just as she imagines that the darker woman's curiosity upon spying her seemingly sprawled out, lifeless, on the floor will supersede her instinct to behave as cautiously as would be advisable when facing the Dark One.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** _Sorry for leaving this fic hanging for a little while. It's currently my most complicated story to write (or rather, it's the most difficult to remember what's happened where/ when) so I had to do some reading over previous chapters. I hope you enjoy, and I have half of August more or less free, so hopefully I can avoid the standard 'sorry for the wait' A/Ns for a while! Thanks for reading, and reviews would be lovely :)_

* * *

"Where are you?"

The Queen mutters angrily, but her question is met only by silence, which feeds her rage all the more. Her limbs are tight- her fists cramping as she keeps them closed around silken sheets- as she remains sat rigidly still in an attempt to pick up any noise from elsewhere in the castle. The idea that the blonde might no longer be inside the Palace grounds at _all_ had struck her momentarily, but she has since thrown this theory out as unlikely, just as she had down in the topiary garden. Emma has nothing to gain in leaving their current battleground, nor would she have a clue where to _go_ in this strange land.

She must be lurking around _somewhere_ , but her decision to keep her whereabouts a secret vex her tormentor no end.

"You're just making things _worse_ for yourself when I _do_ eventually find you... Because I will. I _will_ find you, dear."

The Queen seethes. Beside her, the sheets glisten damningly with her own spent excitement, and the room smells strongly of sex as well as the acrid stench coming from the burnt grooves in the stone. Their games since coming here have been rife with a battle for dominance- for power- which is not a first for her by any means, although the carnal element is one she can't recall ever being so brazen about, nor so _frequent_ in her previous brawls for the upper hand. She has spent the last thirty odd years stuck in a land with little release. Trapped inside the prison of the Mayor who, even upon regaining control of her magic, had played by a set of rules handed to her by the Saviour she'd once vowed to destroy; rules she'd not always played by _happily_ , but she _had_ played by them. She had allowed her lessers to keep her bound, to keep her tethered, to keep her _tame_.

As such, her recent spate of pleasure remains on her mind beneath her rage; her sex thrumming along with her head.

"The Saviour crawled... _Crawled_ at my demand..."

She hisses victoriously to the silent room; picturing the slick gleam coating pale thighs as the blonde had knelt on the floor after tasting her.

After her _need_ to taste her- to _fuck_ her- had allowed her temporary freedom to do as her mistress demanded of her, and _oh_ , she had done so _wonderfully_.

"Harlot."

The Queen spits, but she is offered no reply, and she suffers the unfavourable realisation that a great deal of her irritation that the blonde should be missing stems from her wish to keep the bitch to hand so that she might ask for a repeat of recent events should the mood take her.

 _I will_ ask _her no such thing!... I will_ tell _her. I will_ demand _it... The days of the Saviour believing she possesses free will are a thing of the past. I_ own _her, as I own the game... I've proven as much._

Yes, she is certain, as beneath her rage, beneath her lust, beneath her conviction, she relishes the lingering sensation of the blonde's misery so recently sampled. The emotions she'd channeled through the younger woman had been raw and terrible, and she strives to put together fractured puzzle pieces glimpsed in a kaleidoscope of distress so that she might utilise Emma's memories as punishment the next time she needs to keep her in line.

"Oh, and she's going to _get_ it for her current little game."

She vows, although she suffers a slight sense of unease as her dark eyes flicker yet again to the destruction that marks the floor, and she wonders whether there might be repercussions for her lowest blow yet that extend _beyond_ the younger woman's control.

"Impossible. She's merely playing true to her nature. Playing the flake. Running away..."

The Queen purrs, yet her hands remain fisted around silk sheets and her rage remains true as her eyes hunt the shadows growing steadily darker as night begins to fall.

Finally, she pushes herself up and stalks towards the window; looking out over the grounds, before taking a step back and studying the soft haze of her reflection now prominent against the bruised backdrop beyond.

"Oh..."

She breathes.

"Oh... You foolish thing. You _ignorant_ whelp. You don't have what it takes to best me; I have my ways... True, I should have thought of this before now, but it matters not. What _matters_ is that I win. _Again_ , I win. You're mine. I have you now..."

Her words come out breathless- little more than a whisper- as she makes her way to the looking glass adorning the vanity table she'd spent hours behind back when things were good. Back when she'd had the throne.

Contemplating her reflection, she notes that her lips maintain a slight swell from where they have crashed against the blonde's, and she touches her tongue gently to the centre of her Cupid's bow- admiring the velvet point- before taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes.

When she opens them again, she is met with the cold squaller of the dungeons down below. She sees the cells in a distorted maze; glimpsed through a set of keys hung out of reach of the bars as her magic seeks out any surface that will allow her to scour the grounds. Finding no trace of the blonde amongst chains and dirt, she moves on, eyes glittering with a magenta hue as she moves methodically through the rooms of the Palace; skipping from mirrors, to suits of armour, to pots, to pans, to the guilded back of a hairbrush.

"Where are you?"

She repeats, moving fast through various scenes as she broadens her search to the gardens, to the grounds sheds, to the stables, to the woods, to the-

She stills, the dizzying showreel playing out inside the glass coming to a halt as she narrows her eyes and backtracks; honing in on several pieces of armour littering the courtyard, before finding the chest plate propped against the wall inside the stable and summoning its view.

"Got you..."

She breathes, although a slight frown furrows her brow as she studies the scene displayed to her; cocking her head as she drinks in dust, bone, and the sorry figure her prey casts in the shadows.

The blonde lies strewn out on her back; motionless. The heavy leather once more shrouding her slim frame makes it impossible to say whether or not she's breathing, but the Queen tells herself not to be ridiculous, as the idea that the younger woman might have succumbed to her torment is laughable.

 _Is it?_

Yes, she would say so... And yet she suffers a niggling doubt as she remains glued to the scene; unable to see the Saviour's face from the angle she's given, but sensing no change in the blonde's position as thunder booms ominously overhead. The roof of the stables would have been rethatched in early summer had the curse not hit, and she knows its years standing derelict will have turned minor weaknesses in integrity into open wounds, allowing in rain, snow and whatever else Mother Nature might wish to throw down. The cobbled floor is in no doubt cold, and soon it will be wet, yet the Saviour lies limp and shows no reaction.

 _She must know that I'm watching her..._

The Queen reasons, although she can't see how this would be, and she isn't sure she's willing to praise the bitch with the necessary _wits_ to pull off her sorry guise.

 _The woman is a snake..._

Yes, but she is also a _novice_. Powerful, that much has been proven... But would she really possess the foresight to set a trap?

 _It was the bitch's_ job _in her past life!_

True. And yet... The Queen wonders. She had felt something when she'd touched the blonde just below the base of her skull and leeched the chaos contained within. Something quite similar in sensation to an elastic band; pulled further and further and becoming frayed. With each foul memory she'd fed off as she'd maintained her grip, that stretch had become ever more precarious, and as she glances back now at the ugly groves created in the hard stone floor, she wonders if that band- that tether- might have snapped with the blonde's disappearance. She is unsure whether such a thing is even possible, and thus has _no_ idea what might have happened to the Saviour as a _result_ , but as dark eyes fixate once more on the lifeless figure in the stables, she _wonders_...

" _If_ what I did killed her, I would have _felt_ it... I'm sure."

She muses, but as the sky darkens and the rain begins to fall more heavily, she is unable to push aside that tiny sliver of uncertainty, and when a tongue of lighting lashes the sky, she pushes herself from the bed with the resolve to put her mind at ease and figure out just _what's_ happened to her recent sparring partner for herself.

"If you're _not_ dead, dear, you're about to _wish_ you were, I can promise you that much."

She seethes, before cloaking herself in purple smoke and entering the storm.

* * *

"What do we do now?"

Lily asks shakily as she stalks alongside the Mayor in the hazy glow of the streetlights. Main Street is deserted, glistening with the earlier rain that seems content to hold off for the time being, but lingers heavily in the air. They walk quickly, neither of them discussing the decision as they make their way back towards the blonde's house to regroup. Regina had sent a text to Henry as soon as they'd left Gold's shop, telling him to stay over at the Charmings' and ask David to pick him up. The fact that she has yet to receive a reply demanding to know what's happened that would have her staying out so late leads her to believe Violet must still be at theirs keeping him occupied. She is unable to help the fact that this thought sits ill with her, although she has been told more than once by the blonde that she's a little too uptight about the matter.

 _"Seriously, it's_ fine _. They hold hands, they giggle way too much, and sometimes they kiss. It's hardly anything_ inappropriate _given their age! There's kids that do a whole lot_ worse _!"_

Emma had pointed out when the Mayor had asked for her to weigh in on whether the two should be left upstairs unsupervised when their young romance first blossomed, and she'd offered the blonde a frown, before biting back irritably

 _"You'd know a lot about that, would you? Speaking from experience?"_

She supposes it's a sign of just how little animosity remains between them that this snide barb had merely earned her a sigh and a calm utterance of agreement.

"Regina?"

Lily prompts now as they round the corner and head up the blonde's driveway, and she offers the younger woman a distracted glance as she fishes Emma's spare key out of her pocket.

" _Now_ , we've got to figure out a way to get to the Enchanted Forest."

She muses bitterly; past mishaps and accidental excursions suggesting this might be easier said than done. Leading them through into the younger woman's living room- pushing the slatted door to the closet closed as she passes without any real thought- she takes a seat on one of the sofas that centre the room before looking up at her companion with belated frustration.

"And since _when_ did any of this become ' _we_ '?"

She demands, and Lily offers her a withering look as she stalks over to one of the bookcases in the corner; proceeding to pull out a couple of paperbacks to flick through at random, before shoving them back in the wrong order. Her carelessness has Regina clenching her jaw, although the darker woman doubts Emma will have set the books out in any discernible pattern to begin with.

"It became ' _we_ ' when you told me my best friend's basement door had been kicked in at the same time she went AWOL."

The younger woman states, and Regina frowns as she studies her curious companion shrewdly.

"I hardly think Miss Swan counts as your best friend."

She counteracts, and Lily raises a brow as she looks up from a copy of The Firm and asks silkily

"No? Who would you propose I give the title to _instead_?"

"... It's been a long time since the two of you were close."

"Yeah... Much _longer_ then it's been since _your_ last attempt to harm her."

"...Please... Let's not start that again."

Regina sighs wearily, holding her hand up to ask for a truce, and Lily nods as she takes a seat opposite the Mayor and replies seriously

"Look, it became ' _we_ ' as soon as you asked if I might know anything. I mean, honestly... What did you _expect_ after what Gold just told us? That I might just _leave_ it?"

"...I work better alone."

"Not true."

"How would you-"

"-You _can_ work alone... You work _better_ with Emma."

"Emma's not _here_."

The darker woman reminds through gritted teeth, and Lily splays her palms as she points out

"That's not a denial."

"No... It's not. What of it?"

"I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."

The younger woman shrugs, and Regina thins her lips as she muses upon this response, before continuing a little uncomfortably

"About that... I want to ask you about your response to something mentioned in Gold's shop..."

"Okay, look, that jumped up little wizard said the cuff held remnants of your _magic!_ You can't _blame_ me for jumping to the conclusion that-"

"-No. Not that."

"What, then?"

"...When I shared that I believed Emma's behaviour seemed flirtatious towards me, I expected at least _one_ of you to tell me I must be mistaken. Or to at the very _least_ greet the notion with _surprise_! ... As it is, I'm not quite _sure_ what your reaction suggested...?"

She strives to adopt a politely neutral expression, although she is aware that her cheeks burn as she finds everything _about_ the topic they broach more than a little uncomfortable. The one _positive_ she takes from the situation, is that Lily seems even _more_ uneasy than she does, as the younger woman swallows before looking away and agreeing quietly

"Well... It certainly wasn't surprise."


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N:** _Sorry for the wait, guys! There's a couple of reasons I've been so slow to update this fic (and others), but one of them might be of interest to some of you! Sorry to shamelessly promote on here, but I figure it can't hurt! One of my many,_ many _projects lately has been building up a collection of illustrations for my Etsy store **SpookshowShop** (insta: **spookshowillustrations** ) in order to pay for my books for school (and, full disclosure, more tattoos,,,). I'd mainly been working on some Harry Potter pictures for a wall calendar which is now complete and up for sale, but I figured that in return for promoting my stuff on here, I'd get some SQ illustrations up on there too :) So, if you wanted to get yourself one, or just give the store/ products a like to boost my page, that would be hugely appreciated :) _

_Right, asshole salesman speech over! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I promise the next will be quicker in coming, as I've got the bulk of my illustrating out the way now!_

 _Reviews would be lovely :)_

* * *

 _"Well... It certainly wasn't_ surprise _."_

Lily fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket awkwardly when Regina greets this statement with a raised brow.

"What do you mean?"

The Mayor prompts when she bores of waiting for an explanation, and Lily sighs as she surveys the blonde's living room uneasily.

"I think you'd best ask Emma about that."

"Maybe so, but right now I'm asking you."

Regina challenges, and Lily wrinkles her nose as she mutters uncomfortably

"It wasn't a surprise, because you're her type."

"Her type? I don't... I don't follow."

The Mayor frowns, although she's prettty sure that she does. The suggestion ignites a strange feeling inside her chest, and she feels heat creep across her cheeks despite managing to keep her tone neutral when she points out silkily

"I wouldn't have said that the pirate and myself share a great many similarities... I'm almost _offended_ at the implication."

"So would _I_ be, but I'm not so sure you're right... Both you and Hook have a darker side you've overcome. You're both outspoken and hot-tempered. Emma might argue with you 'til she's blue in the face, but that's partly because she _enjoys_ it... More so with you than with Killian, I'd imagine, because _you're_ not trying to move in on her space and demand a label for your relationship."

"I wouldn't _know_ how to describe my relationship with Miss Swan if my life _depended_ on it..."

Regina shakes her head, and Lily offers her a small grin as she insists,

"Yeah, and I'll bet that just makes her like you all the _more_."

"She doesn't- I mean not in the way you're implying... Does she?"

"I've never asked. All I can say is that you're her type."

"Well... I mean, there is _one_ glaring difference between myself and Hook. Neal. Graham-"

"-Who?"

"The late Sheriff. He and Miss Swan had a-"

"-Oh, him. Yes, she told me about him."

"Mmm."

Regina purses her lips, and Lily shrugs as she can tell that the darker woman suffers some unresolved issues when it comes to Emma's predecessor.

"So, what's the glaring difference?"

She asks, already knowing the answer.

"Well, I'm... You know..."

"Royalty?"

"A woman."

The Mayor hisses, and she glowers at the younger woman as she can tell that Lily had known _exactly_ what she'd been trying to hint at but keep from saying.

"I'd noticed."

"... That's her type?"

" _You're_ her type. Whatever it is that makes you you. I can tell by the way she talks to you."

"Only today you were expressing your confusion that she would wish to do so at _all!_ You made your anger about the situation quite clear."

"And I stand _by_ that confusion."

"And your anger?"

"My anger... Is complicated."

"How so?"

"Because... Like you keep _reminding_ me; it's been a while. I know you've done good as well as evil. I know there's more to you than one fucked up decision. I _also_ know that you and I- and I guess that strange little man we just visited- are the only people in this town not _insistent_ on getting the calvary involved at any given hurdle. That might end up biting us, and it might prove a giant mistake... It's _also_ how Emma would _prefer_ things were handled, and I know _that's_ your reason for trying to figure this out for yourself rather than asking the others for help. I respect that. But I still don't like you."

"Noted."

Regina shrugs; neither surprised nor concerned in the face of this admission, and altogether a little distracted as she's still trying to process Lily's _previous_ revelation. Looking up at the younger woman as the latter pulls loose threads from a cushion she's hugged to her lap, the Mayor wonders momentarily if some of her companion's bitterness might stem from jealousy, but this strikes her as a topic _completely_ out of her comfort zone, so she opts to push her confusion to one side in favour of logic.

In favour of sanity.

"I need to figure out how to get home."

She reiterates, finding it all too easy to refocus her discomfort as memories of her former self wash over her without invitation. She swallows, finding the thought of Emma spending time with the Evil Queen grossly unsavoury.

 _And just a little embarrassing..._

"I might have a suggestion."

Lily muses, catching the darker woman by surprise, and Regina studies her earnestly and demands

"What is it?"

"Well, that depends... Are you willing to do this as 'we'?"

"... I'm willing to accept your help should I need it."

"Fine. Then I think we should go and speak to my mother."

* * *

"Saviour."

The Queen announces her arrival; raising her voice to be heard over a roar of thunder. She stands at the entrance to the stables; dark eyes glittering as she drinks in ancient bone on ravaged cobbles, and the sorry state of the blonde. Emma remains motionless, despite the darker woman's barked address, and as the brunette takes a couple of steps further into the shadows, she finds herself less certain that her games haven't spelt the end for her foolish opponent. This notion sits oddly with her; forever striving for victory, but so rarely offered its sweet embrace, and as she is faced now with the possibility that she might have _won_ this battle of wits, she can't help but wish that the final blow had been a little more spectacular.

Theatrical.

Bloody.

Something that would just break Snow's heart.

"This will do."

The Queen assures herself on the last count at least- relishing the thought of making this death notification in person- and yet...

And yet, she's wary.

"Saviour?"

She tries again, quieter now. The blonde's face is turned away from her, and the rain that pelts down through the broken thatch collects between the cobbles in small rivulets and drenches her hair sodden gold.

And, there _is_ blood.

Not a lot, but the Queen can see it smeared down the side of the blonde's jaw; painting that sharp line, and suggesting she might find more if she were to stalk over and inspect her prey face to face.

 _It suits her... But I don't recall any injury made by my hand that might account for it..._

She frowns, tearing her eyes from the lifeless form of the Saviour and scouring their surroundings uncertainly.

"What is going _on_?"

She hisses, turning her attention once more down towards Emma and pursing her lips thoughtfully. She remains alert to the fact that this might all be a trap, but she isn't sure what the blonde would be _waiting_ for should this be part of her game. The stables are miserably cold, and littered with death, decay, and scattered instruments from a time long gone. It seems so far removed from Emma's cruel trick with the diary, which had been a sordid display played out over soft sheets, sheltered from the elements. It would seem strange for the younger woman to opt for such an uncomfortable setting, particularly after her previous misfortune down in the dungeon.

 _Why would she wish to allow me to punish her_ here _?_

Unable to answer her own question, the Queen reminds herself of her power, and the sheer elegance of her decision to leech into the Saviour's best guarded secrets. It had been inspired (if she says so herself), and perhaps- _just_ perhaps- having to deal with those images unwillingly shared, along with her physical torture and whatever curious power forced her disappearance were simply too much for the Saviour. A deadly combination neither of them had anticipated.

"If so, it would be a curious method of disposal to experiment with further in the future..."

The darker woman murmurs beneath her breath; the idea titillating, however much she might regret that it has called an abrupt end to her games with Snow's feisty whelp, as it has been quite some time since she's enjoyed carnal methods of torture quite so deliciously, and fears it might prove challenging to find comparative enjoyment when testing out another.

"Must our fun end so soon?"

She sighs with a hint of amusement colouring her tongue; coming to the conclusion that she has simply allowed the blonde a greater sense of power in her mind than it seems was deserved, and she moves over to where Emma lies in the damp and the dirt and offers her a commiserative smirk.

"Such a _damaged_ thing you were. A pity, as that's where resorting to evil might have _helped_ you, dear. It might have purged you of all that misery- all that rage- I felt by simply touching you in that special place."

Light laughter at this- salacious and cruel- as she leans over the younger woman and turns Emma's face up to the thatch and the thunderous skies beyond; studying sooty lashes and more blood smeared from abused lips by the rain. She supposes it's entirely _likely_ that Emma had bitten down in order to keep from screaming as her memories were pilfered through, and she offers still features a queerly affectionate smile; content with this answer, and the lack of any reaction from the blonde.

 _Still warm._

She sighs, a little irritated that she has so quickly broken her plaything, but of all the ways their battle for dominance could have gone, she is more than willing to accept this outcome and move on.

 _Move on to figuring a way out of this place._

 _Move on to finding Snow White._

"And I'll be sure to tell her _just_ what happened to her misguided princess. I'll make sure that she knows her firstborn died in the _dirt_ , Saviour. In the cold, in the rain, amongst neglect, amongst bones. Amongst... What-"

But the Queen's confusion over the small metal spoon and its strange contents- kept dry under a carefully selected vein of unbroken thatch- is interrupted by utter disbelief and incomprehension, as the Saviour's limp frame tightens and moves with unexpected speed, and the blonde reaches up for her, grabbing her by the wrist, before flicking the small heap of pollen from the bowl of the spoon into her face; allowing her no time to think better of the act as she breathes in that noxious powder as she prepares to scream.


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:** _This fic will be the death of me! I really struggled to find the tone for this chapter, and I ask that you please be gentle with me (constructive criticism is fine) as I've been working and reworking this for the last two days. The current lack of any real humanity in either character makes it a hard story- for now- to write without either irreparably crossing the line (and without them just killing each other!) or keeping things too safe, as that wasn't my intention for this fic. On that note, I know I said I wouldn't add warnings for this story as I said it would be twisted/ dark from the outset, but as it's been so long and some of you might be having as hard a time remembering events as I was, this chapter **contains violence** and general cruel behaviour. I really hope it works :/ Reviews would be really lovely._

* * *

"What did you _do_!?"

The Queen cries when she finally catches her breath and some wherewithal of the situation. Her question is largely moot- the cloying musk of the poppies unmistakeable- but she is still coming around from their noxious effect and suffering a tenuous grasp on her consciousness. She can't remember ever feeling as _shocked_ as she does now, not just in light of the blonde's wicked trickery, but because of the way she has been manhandled following her inhalation of the pollen currently rendering her powerless. She has been thrown up against the heavy doors of the stable; forced into place while weak and unable to support herself, and as she finally regains some semblance of a regular heartbeat, she regards Emma with open horror as the blonde pulls a crudely fashioned leather cuff tightly into place around her wrist.

"You're not dead..."

She croaks, watching the younger woman wrestle with the buckle that keeps her homemade restraint in place. Emma steps back to admire her handiwork; the Queen's ankles and other hand already taken care of.

"No. I'm not."

Emma agrees, before asking coldly

"Was that what you were going for?"

"Not specifically, but I presumed my little mind-trick crossed the line somehow when you suddenly disappeared. You made a _terrible_ mess of the floor, dear."

The Queen muses, striving to keep her shock from her tone, as inside she's beginning to panic. Not only is her current predicament far from fit for a Queen, but it is _entirely_ foreign to her. She remains nude, which has lost any of its sensual appeal now that she's out in the elements, and the more she drinks in of the Saviour's curious contraption, the more she understands that this is an entirely different game they play now. This is dark. Perverted. It bears some similarity to her use of the hood down in the dungeon, only...

 _... only_ I _wasn't the one wearing that. I wasn't the one_ humiliated _. I am the Queen, I am everything, and the wretch has me trussed up like a servant for auction. Worse; the use of leather and buckles. The aesthetic of that other world's slave girl._

 _Of debauched prey._

She swallows, and she is all too aware that the blonde currently plays every bit the predator, stood watching her in a shaft of moonlight; paying the rain and the thunder no mind.

"Crossed the _line!_?"

Emma seethes, her tone arctic, and the Queen smirks as she can well imagine the younger woman deems her trickery rather more despicable than the saying accounts for.

"Crossed the line between _realms_ , dear. Between life and death. Had that been the case, it would have come as a surprise and I would have been unsure of the specifics, but it could have been possible. I felt something in you... I felt it break."

"You felt _nothing_."

The blonde snaps, refusing to allow the Queen such fanciful thoughts, and before the darker woman can show the audacity of thinking it's her place to say more on the matter, she continues in a soft, dangerous voice

"But you're _going_ to."

"...Yes. You're certainly setting the scene for it."

The brunette agrees, maintaining her illusion of mild bemusement for just a little longer, while all too aware the blonde means to punish her viciously for what she'd done back in the bedroom.

Green eyes narrow in response, but Emma says nothing, and the Queen has known the younger woman long enough in her previous guise to know that this is definitely _not_ a promising sign. Her fears are justified- and greatly increased- when she watches Emma bend down and take possession of her old lunge whip.

"Saviour..."

She warns nervously, her charade of control cracking visibly as she pulls against her restraints.

"Quiet!"

Emma admonishes, before making sure she has the Queen's undivided attention with a hard lash to the floor; the sound ominously loud as it echoes off of the damp stone.

"Don't..."

The darker woman breathes, knowing it will do her no good to try and barter, but not quite ready to _accept_ her imminent fate.

 _She can't. Can't use that thing on me. She wouldn't_ dare _..._

"Saviour."

She tries again, this time injecting just a little hope into the title; imploring the idiot blonde to remember her place. To revert back to the confused young woman she'd handcuffed to the bed.

"What?"

Emma demands. Dark eyes flicker from bruised lips to the whip held down by the blonde's side, and the Queen warns a little louder

"Don't. Don't use that."

"Why?"

"Because... It will hurt. I'll bleed."

"It will. You will."

The younger woman agrees, and when she catches a slight frown alight the brunette's brow, she closes in on her and pushes the hard hilt of the whip against her stomach as she speaks softly into her ear.

"But you _wanted_ to play with me, remember? You _wanted_ the _bitch_ to come out. You were _adamant_. You wanted the _darkness_ , Your Majesty, you said so yourself."

"I didn't mean-"

"-What? Didn't _mean_ what you said?... You should know me well enough by now to know I take issue with that. You _assured_ me that you would get what you wanted, Regina, and now you have it. You have _me_. You have my full, undivided attention on you... You _also_ have a shit-load of insider knowledge about me that I never consensually gave you... That really doesn't bode _well_ for you."

"They were just memories."

"They were _my_ memories! _Mine_! _My_ secrets, and _my_ nightmares."

Emma growls against the soft skin of the brunette's cheek, before stepping back and shaking her head, her voice low with warning when she continues

"That was a dumb move on your part, and I think you're beginning to realise that for yourself. I've worked _hard_ to master keeping black thoughts locked up over the years; it's better for me, and it's better for everyone _else_. I can stray too close to one trigger, _maybe_ even two, and I can keep my shit together and behave rationally. _Appropriately_. I'm stronger than you, I always have been; I didn't _need_ to let anger win. I didn't _need_ to make others pay for the crap I've been through. I kept it _in_ , and I've been called cold, and I've been called a bitch, and I've been goaded and teased for some of my mannerisms that maybe aren't considered normal. Regina did a _lot_ of that. A _lot_ of teasing me, which all seems a bit _rich_ , now I think about it. Now that I _really_ think about it. Now that I'm not just faced with _one_ memory o _r two_... Now that I've watched in quick succession every one of the worst things I've been through, and realise that so _much_ of it- almost _all_ of it- leads back to _her_. To _you_."

"You flatter me."

The Queen purrs, and she knows she'll regret it as soon as the words leave her lips, but to respond in such a way is pure habit, and she has no other answer to give. She is sure the pathetic mess of her Storybrooke counterpart might grovel for forgiveness- that she might _genuinely_ feel remorse in knowing some of the gritty specifics gleaned during her brief foray into the blonde's mind- but _she_ feels only outrage that she remains bound and cold, at the mercy of a crude weapon never intended for use on royalty.

"Good."

Comes the reply, and she suffers a moment of confusion as this definitely wasn't the response she'd anticipated, before the cruel tongue of the whip cracks against the soft flesh below her navel; eliciting a white heat, followed by sharp pain and the wet trickle of blood.

" _Ah!_ "

The noise she makes is little less than a scream, and she glares at her assailant with a mixture of fury and apprehension; watching Emma pull back to land another blow.

" _Saviour!_ "

The Queen cries out as a second welt beads scarlet above her left breast, and she feels an uncharacteristic wave of indisputable fear when the blonde shows no emotion- no malicious laughter, no screaming venom, no conflicted tears- as she pulls back for a third time.

 _"Emma!_ "

The Queen shouts, before the word twists into a pained yelp and she endures a third lash just below the first; fresh blood welling to the surface, before trickling south between her legs.

"What?"

The blonde replies coldly, and the darker woman bares her teeth furiously as this reply feels entirely _ludicrous_ given the circumstances.

"Stop!"

She orders, striving to keep any hint of begging from her voice.

"Why?"

Emma asks again, staring the Queen down in the silence that follows; the latter unable to come up with an answer.

" _You_ haven't stopped _once._.."

The blonde accuses softly, and the darker woman shakes her head as she reasons

"That was _sex_. That was _pleasure_. This isn't the same _thing_."

"No?"

" _No!_ Do you think I'm _enjoying_ this?"

"I don't really _care_ whether _you_ are or not... _I_ am. No more or less so than _you_ enjoyed forcing me to wear that hood."

"You loved it."

"No."

" _Liar._ I felt how close you were to the edge."

"You were fucking me. All things aside, you're good for _one_ thing."

"This isn't the same."

The Queen reiterates angrily, before watching warily as the blonde closes in on her for a second time.

"No?"

Emma asks, grabbing a fistful of thick hair and tugging hard as she presses the flat of her tongue to the brunette's cheek before scraping soft skin with her teeth. Allowing a small smirk when the darker woman tries to pull away in favour of glowering at her furiously, she glances down at the drying blood tracking the Queen's pubis, before taking hold of her jaw and inserting two fingers into her mouth.

"No, no– bite me, and I stop playing so nicely. Wet them. I presume you want to do so _before_ they get bloody?"

Emma asks silkily, and dark coals shoot daggers at her as the Queen makes a choking sound.

"Don't give me that look. I'm being much nicer than you deserve."

The blonde warns, and when she retracts her fingers and allows the darker woman to catch her breath, the Queen asks her incredulously

"You're being _nice_?!"

"Very."

Emma nods, before thrusting her slickened fingers deep, while rocking her hips into the brunette's to add more force to the intrusion.

"Ah!"

The Queen hisses, but when the blonde pulls back and repeats the action, she responds reluctantly with a groan.

"Does this make it all better? Does this make it all fucking fair?"

Emma asks, and when she receives nothing but a glower, she begins fucking the Queen with greater intent; trailing her fingers up a little every now and then to mix blood with saliva and the brunette's helpless excitement.

"You're full of it though, aren't you? This stopped being a _game_ back in the Palace. You ask me to stop _hurting_ you, claiming that's not how this goes, when those rules are laughable at best, and you were _perfectly_ content with the idea you might have killed me."

"Are you still sore about that?"

The darker woman growls, struggling to appease her sense of self as she remains incensed by the blonde's behaviour, in pain due to the cruel welts painting her flesh, yet at the mercy of her baser urges; the slick teasing of the younger woman's fingers causing her to strain against her bonds in a way that no longer has much to do with a wish to escape.

A hard thrust in retaliation to her comment, and the Queen grits her teeth as there is something intoxicating about this situation that feels traitorous to acknowledge. She's _better_ than this. _Better_ than quivering with pleasure as she is treated like a servant girl.

 _I am everything. All my best parts._

She repeats in her head as a low hum of pleasure escapes her lips, and she understands that where her current circumstances are wildly out of her comfort zone, that same crazed depravity that has seen their interactions through this far lends her anger a passionate flare.

 _Besides... The Saviour's crude violence still pales in comparison to the hand I played infiltrating her mind. Whether she likes it or not, I am_ still _the one with the power here._

So she gladly allows herself to believe, and when the blonde pushes into her- leather heavy against bare flesh- she chafes her teeth against the latter's jaw, almost as though she's encouraging her.

Emma ducks in response, and for a moment, the Queen believes the Saviour is punishing her for her enjoyment, but then she observes silently as the younger woman lays down the lunge whip at their feet. She enjoys a brief interlude of smug relief, before swallowing when the blonde reaches out and selects a new implement from the pegs to their right.

"No..."

She whispers, earning herself a hard look, but Emma doesn't move back with the bullwhip in order to allow space to swing it. Instead, she resumes her position pressed against the Queen, and the darker woman feels her breath catch in her throat as the blonde pushes the hilt of the whip against her sex.

"Yes."

Emma corrects her, pushing in slowly, and the brunette closes her eyes while sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

"This is no way to treat a Queen."

She murmurs huskily, her breathing audible, and the blonde nips dominantly at her clavicle before asking

"Do you want me to stop?"

Unsure whether answering positively would grant her any reprieve or not, the Queen hesitates before shaking her head.

"What was that?"

Emma snaps, thrusting deep, and the darker woman bites back a moan before she can help herself, and mutters reluctantly

"No. Don't stop."

"Hmmm?"

The blonde teases, using the hand not guiding the whip to play over slick flesh, and the Queen growls as any lingering sting from the whip seems momentarily distant in her mind, and her anger at her predicament has taken on a lustful, needy edge.

"I said _no_. Don't stop!"

She snaps, forever confident despite the way their roles currently fall.

 _Misplaced_ confidence it seems, as, after a particularly slow thrust of the whip, the younger woman abruptly steps back.

"What are you _doing_?!"

The Queen cries, and Emma rolls her eyes as she stands with her hands on her hips; the fingers of the left glistening damningly.

"Really? You don't know?"

"But... You _asked_! You asked what I _wanted_!"

"Which just makes this all the more sweet."

The blonde grins, and it is an odd expression; cruel as intended, but lacking any cheek previously hinted at beneath.

"You-"

"-Let me guess? Bitch? That's getting old, Regina."

"So is your move, dear."

The Queen retorts, although the effect is somewhat diminished as she remains clearly on edge; crude leather currently still in place and causing her breath to hitch as gravity goes slowly about doing its job.

"How so?"

Emma demands.

"I _played_ this hand already. I've played it _more_ than once! Punishing you by leaving you wanting. Your trick is nothing new."

"It _is_ , though."

The blonde argues, and when her response is met with a frown, she takes a further step back and watches with a raised brow as the whip lands slickly on wet stone.

"Pity."

"How is this _different_?"

The brunette growls, feeling a slight hint of humiliation which doesn't sit well with her at all.

"Because, like you said: that was _sex_. It was about the _game_. You played with me as you saw fit, not as an equal, because you see my lineage as a joke."

" _Lineage?!_ A shepherd and a thief-"

"A Knight and a Princess. A Queen."

Emma corrects, and for once, she does so without looking sheepish, lending her words some strength.

"Call them what you will, you will _never_ be fit for the throne..."

"Maybe not, which is fine by me. I'm merely stating that's how _you_ see things. You call me the _Saviour_ to _taunt_ me; spitting the title with disdain you make no effort to hide. Again, that's fine by me, although I feel obliged to point out that I lived up to the title you mock me with. I won."

"So?"

The brunette demands, beginning to shiver as her adrenaline comes down enough to make her aware of how cold their surroundings have become now that night has fallen.

"So, _you_ see _me_ as pleases you: you see me as nothing. _I_ , however, see you as the _Queen_. Hell, I've had enough experience with you to know that it suits. You can have your title... What I'm _not_ willing to give you, what I will _never_ give you, is the respect it commands. You denied me my pleasure when that's all you had to offer me in the first place. I'm denying you yours, but I'm doing so with your position very much in mind. I have your blood on my clothes and your need painting my hand. I have you trussed up and helpless. I have you quivering and wanting, Your Majesty, in a way I _know_ no one else _ever_ has. I've conquered you... I _acknowledge_ what you are, and it is with that thought in mind that I'm denying you. I have you more _vulnerable_ , more carnally _degraded_ than any other soul ever has, yet I have no further desire to play with you..."

Emma muses, affecting a small shrug to add insult to injury.

"How _dare_ you speak to me in such a way?!"

The Queen seethes, hot rage igniting her blood in the face of the younger woman's unforgivable irreverence.

"With ease, and with pleasure."

Emma replies, before turning around and heading towards the opening to the courtyard.

"Where are you _going_?!"

The brunette demands, and when she is denied an answer, she raises her voice with an audible note of panic

"You can't _leave_ me here!"

Emma stops in her tracks, looking over her shoulder to repeat the question she has asked several times before.

"Why?"

"I'm _bare!_ I'll _perish!_ "

"..And?"

"Saviour, you-"

"-I nothing... Besides, you're being dramatic. The effect of the poppies will wear off in a while and you'll be free to figure out your next pathetic move. Just know, I'll be ready."

"But it's _freezing_! I can't _wait_ that long! It-"

"-You can. You may not _want_ to, but physically, it's possible. I should know. I know a _lot_ about being cold. Making do outside. Of course, you _know_ all that now, right? You _saw_ some of the things that can happen out in the cold. You wanted to know so _badly_ what having it rough might be like... Enjoy that."


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N:** _What's that? An update for this fic that didn't take a month or 3?! Holy shit balls! Ahem. Hopefully, this pace will continue, although there are a few things I still need to figure out. I hope you enjoy this update! Reviews would be lovely :)_

* * *

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Maleficent asks as Lily stalks into the kitchen with Regina at her heels.

"I need to speak with you."

The Mayor cuts to the chase, and when Maleficent smirks and offers to pour them some wine, she accepts but warns

"This isn't a social visit."

"No?"

"I'm afraid not. Lily says you might be able to help us. I need a way back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Oh? Are you planning anything fun?"

The witch asks hopefully, and Regina offers her a withering look- her old friend quick to tease her since losing the darkness that had once given their relationship its bond- and sighs as she takes a sip of her wine.

"Not by _your_ standards, no... Not by _my_ standards, either. I need a way over there to go and help Emma and bring her back."

"Emma? The _Saviour's_ gone missing?"

"Yes, but that is _not_ information you are to share or to do anything with."

The brunette warns, and Lily speaks up from her perch on the kitchen counter and assures sternly

"Don't worry. She won't."

With a pointed look at her mother.

"Pity."

Maleficent sighs, but she greets the frown Regina throws her with a dismissive sweep of her hand and scoffs

"Don't worry, darling. There's nothing left for me over there since you destroyed the place, and the surly young Princess is _your_ plaything. She is of no interest to me."

"My _plaything_?"

Regina asks icily- incidentally considering the witch's use of the term 'surly' to describe the blonde as rather rich, given the general mannerisms of her offspring- but the cruel titter she'd been expecting doesn't come, as it would appear Maleficent isn't thinking what she's thinking- _nothing like that!_ \- as she explains impatiently

"Yes. It's clear to _anyone_ that the Saviour has replaced the role of her mother as the recipient of your rage and games. Now that that's less your style, she remains your sparring partner, although the game has become frightfully _boring_ , I'd imagine. Emma plays the antagonist in _your_ story, Gina dear, not mine."

"Interesting... I believe it is _we_ who are more often considered the antagonists."

"Well, that's because the heroes are the ones with too much time on their hands; they're the ones writing the books. Are you saying the Saviour _doesn't_ antagonise you?"

"Oh, no. Miss Swan manages the task quite well."

Regina sighs, and Maleficent nods with a bored shrug, before asking after the matter at hand.

"So, what led to Emma finding her way home?"

"I'm not so sure that she _meant_ to."

The brunette thins her lips, but when Maleficent asks her what she means and what might be going on, she shares a quick glance with Lily who appears in agreement that it might be best to skim over the specifics; telling her old friend only that Emma appears to have come to misfortune in her inarguably unusual basement, and that a brief consultation with Rumplestiltskin has confirmed where she is likely to have ended up.

"I never _did_ understand why she chose to live in that place after what happened."

Maleficent frowns, and it's Lily's turn to speak up as she hops down from the marble counter and stalks to the fridge.

"I'm sure there's _more_ to it, but I'd guess that her parents sharing a bed in the living room _might_ have been an incentive to move out."

A grimace of disgust from her mother and the Mayor, who agrees

"I'd imagine that might do it."

"Why _that_ house, though?"

Maleficent pushes, and Lily shrugs while Regina offers a similar gesture of uncertainty, although deep down she has her suspicions that Emma's attachment to the house exists somewhere between secrecy and embarrassment. Her ownership keeps others out as much as it serves to keep a roof over her head, and the brunette supposes she can understand _why_ the younger woman might feel protective of what had been her dark space. She suffers similar emotions when it comes to her vault; on edge when any of the others have a reason- _or the audacity!_ \- to explore the place. It is tied to complicated parts of herself that she both resents and pities, and she would be so bold as to bet money on the idea that the blonde feels the same way about her basement.

"Can you help?"

She reverts back to her reason for visiting, and Maleficent raises a brow as she asks

"What's in it for me?"

"My respect."

Lily interrupts, and when her mother turns to glance at her, she takes a sip of the beer recently pulled from the fridge and reminds

"Regina's not the _only_ one invested in Emma."

"Oh yes, _that's_ right. I forgot, she threatened to _kill_ you..."

The witch muses silkily, and the younger woman rolls her eyes as she reasons matter-of-factly

"Well, I _was_ planning to murder her parents, so... tit for tat."

"Kids these days."

Maleficent sighs dramatically, before sitting up straight and adopting a serious tone.

" _If_ I help you, Regina, you go _alone_."

"Fine."

The Mayor agrees immediately, while Lily growls at the exact same time

"What? _Why_?!"

"Because," the witch orders, "the nature of your power is internally damaging when it is not successfully harnessed. Here, you have suffered enough, but if you go back to a land rich with magic in the earth, the water, the forest, I have no way of _knowing_ what might happen to you, and that's not a risk I am willing to take! There's too much you don't yet know about how to control yourself, and while I spare the Saviour's fate no real interest, I would fear that you might injure _yourself_ should you rely on changing your form to help her or to hinder her."

"I wouldn't _hinder_ her."

Lily frowns, and Malificent shrugs as she replies with an air of finality

"Your _intent_ makes no difference. You're not going."

"So how do we do it?"

Regina interrupts, before the others can continue with their familial bickering, and Maleficent turns her attention back toward her old friend and smiles.

"It's fairly simple."

" _Really_?"

The brunette raises a brow sceptically, and the witch smirks as she nods in agreement.

"For those in the know. I understand you've struggled to find your way around the realms since taking up residence in this... hovel... but not _all_ of us are so ill-informed."

"Yet you _linger,_ dear. Like a foul odour."

Regina points out waspishly, unable to hide just a note of offence from her tone, and Maleficent throws a glance towards her daughter and sighs

"Yes, well, you're not the _only_ one who has had to come to terms with the realisation that there are times when our wishes must come _second_ to the wishes of others."

"But you know a simple way back?"

"Relatively simple."

"And you never thought to _mention_ this before?!"

"Oh, I have, just not to _you_. Ursula and I have had _numerous_ discussions over the ways of this land and that. Dear Cruella too, until the Saviour saw fit to do what she did."

Malificent muses; her face a parody of grief, and Regina rolls her eyes as she mutters that Emma wouldn't have acted without a reason, earning herself a knowing smirk which she bristles at irritably.

"Why was _I_ never invited to any of these discussions?"

She snaps, and the witch raises a brow as she points an accusatory finger at her old friend.

"Regina, darling... You have to _admit_ that you're no longer as fun as you were back when you owned the throne. Us girls like to gossip over wickedness and destruction, and you, my love, have gone soft. You're no longer invited to the party."

"Is that supposed to upset me?"

"No... Although it _would_ be an amusing bonus."

"Well, it doesn't."

The brunette insists haughtily, sounding _almost_ convinced herself, and she meets Malificent's quiet tittering with a dismissive flick of her hand and gets back to the matter at hand.

"How do I do it? How do I get back there? Tell me, this isn't the time for games."

"Not for _you_ , perhaps."

The witch shrugs, before catching a murderous glower from Lily and crossing her arms over her chest moodily.

"How did it come to be that everyone in my life has turned so _dull_? All this fuss over a woman most of us would be better off without."

"That's not true."

Regina warns, and when Maleficent makes mention of Henry, she holds up her hand to demand silence and advises coldly

"Miss Swan's value to this town and its people has been proven many times over. _Yours_ has not, and I would like to remind you of the fact that my power surpasses your own."

"Is that a threat?"

"A statement. One I suggest you consider carefully."

"No need. I'm one of your oldest friends, and any fire that might once have lent that adorable warning some credence is long gone."

"I wouldn't count on it."

Regina hisses, and Malificent splays her palms in a 'suit yourself' gesture and relents.

"Alright. I'll help you rescue the Princess... Ugh. Just _saying_ that makes my skin crawl."

"And mine to hear it, but please elaborate."

The brunette sighs with a hint of a smile, and the witch smirks but does as she's told.

"I take it you possess a full-length mirror? I would be rather surprised if you didn't."

"Of course I do."

Regina nods, finding no reason to feel offended by this presumption in the slightest.

"And you recall the layout of a room within the Enchanted Forest containing a mirror of a similar size well enough to call it vividly to mind?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, are you willing to _bleed_ for the Saviour?"

"... Bleed?"

The brunette asks dubiously, and she glowers as the witch purposefully meets her with silence.

"How much blood?"

She asks finally, and when she is still denied an answer, she narrows her eyes further but confesses

"Provided you're not suggesting _sacrifice,_ or an amount that would render me in great peril, I'll do it. Perhaps not _willingly_ , but it seems the lesser of two evils when I consider my _other_ choice is to leave Miss Swan stranded in the Enchanted Forest; something which I don't relish the thought of explaining to Henry, nor her parents."

"Wonderful."

Malificent smiles, and when the brunette clears her throat expectantly, she laughs and assures

"Don't worry, darling, I'm not suggesting anything so messy. I was just curious."

A death glare in response to this, and the witch's amusement only increases, before she relents and explains what has to be done.

"A pin-prick will do it. No need to fret."

"That's _it_?"

"That's it. Conjure up a clear image of the room, and once you have it accurate enough in your head to alter the reflection, you simply open up the seal between the realms by drawing yourself a door with your essence; your blood. Be sure there are no gaps- so perhaps cut a little deeper- and you will be able to pass through."

"That's _it_?! That's all that's _needed_?!"

Regina asks incredulously; recalling several times where this knowledge might have saved her immeasurable stress and heartache.

"Well, there is _one_ small catch."

Malificent admits.

"Of course there is. What is it?"

The brunette sighs apprehensively.

"A door such as the one you plan to make can only last so long. Imagine the _chaos_ that would ensue if it were permanent! That, and you need something to bind you to this realm in order to find a way back."

"A bind?"

"Of sorts. You know of the gift of sevens, I take it?"

"Seven hours granted by an object enchanted. Yes, I know of it from my mother's books, but I have never used the spell myself."

"It's not difficult. Symbolism takes care of most of it. The object, in this case, must be a candle, enchanted to burn for seven hours. Once you have made your blood seal around the mirror, you must tether yourself to the candle. Seven drops of blood before you go through, directly into the flame. Contrived, I know, but the old spells sometimes do work best. Don't worry, the enchantment will keep the flame from being dampened by your offering, but I advise you to leave it burning somewhere sheltered. Close enough to the mirror for it to call you back, but proficiently covered to keep the flame from going out."

"If it does, am I to take it that I will be trapped on the other side, unable to make it back through?"

"Very clever, and partially correct."

"Partially?"

"Indeed. If the candle burns out and you run out of time, or if the flame is prematurely snuffed out, the door will be forever closed to you, and none may use it. Your offering remains in play, however; it hasn't been completed, as your act of magic never reached a conclusion. So, not only will _that_ door be forever closed to you, but _all_ doors within the realm you find yourself will be closed to you. You may never repeat the enchantment should you find yourself with unfinished business. You won't be able to use the same trick to get back, and your power will never be quite the same. There will always be an element of your magic that is lost to you. Forever in play, paying the toll."

"... Just a _small_ catch, then..."

Regina frowns, and Maleficent splays her palms and asks of the brunette

"When has magic ever come without its price?"

Moody silence follows this question, finally broken by Lily who asks from her resumed perch on the counter

"Will you do it? Will you go get Emma?"

"... I suppose I have little choice. She would do the same for me."

"Touching."

Maleficent taunts, and when the Mayor offers her a sour look, she holds up a finger and points out seriously

"If she _were_ to do so, she would do so blind. She knows little of the ways of that world and its rules. _You_ , darling... You're going in knowing full _well_ what a bad idea that's apt to be."

"I am. And, Miss Swan better believe she'll _owe_ me, and that I will never let her _forget_ it!"


End file.
